


The Royal Consort

by lamujerarana



Category: Fantastic Four, Princess Bride (1987), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Princess Bride - William Goldman
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Historical Fantasy, Humor, M/M, Pining, Romance, True Love, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamujerarana/pseuds/lamujerarana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mash-up of <em>The Princess Bride</em> and Spideytorch.</p><p>Johnny's one true love, Peter, perishes at sea, and he is soon after forced into an engagement with the tyrannical king, Victor Von Doom. Can his sister Sue and her friends, Reed and Ben, save him from an unsavory marriage? And who is the masked man who pursues them so tirelessly?</p><p>Features Johnny as Buttercup, Peter as Westley, Sue as Inigo Montoya, Reed as Vizzini, Ben as Fezzik, Doom as Humperdinck.</p><p>***<br/>By the time Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm turned fifteen, he was already the twentieth handsomest man alive.</p><p>He was very, very aware of this fact, of course, because all of the boys and girls in his village swooned at his feet if he so much as smiled at them. It was really very tiring.</p><p>Johnny had to be careful about not smiling too frequently when he was out and about, or it would be simply impossible to get anywhere. The streets would be littered with his fainting suitors, and stepping over them became tedious rather quickly.</p><p>Johnny was never interested in any of his suitors. They were all dull, uninteresting, and not particularly witty. He hardly paid them any attention at all, unless he was stepping over them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly based on the book, since the movie doesn't really pick up the story until much later.

By the time Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm turned fifteen, he was already the twentieth handsomest man alive.

He was very, very aware of this fact, of course, because all of the boys and girls in his village swooned at his feet if he so much as smiled at them. It was really very tiring.

Johnny had to be careful about not smiling too frequently when he was out and about, or it would be simply impossible to get anywhere. The streets would be littered with his fainting suitors, and stepping over them became tedious rather quickly.

Johnny was never interested in any of his suitors. They were all dull, uninteresting, and not particularly witty. He hardly paid them any attention at all, unless he was stepping over them.

When Johnny was not busy causing concussions, he spent most of his days riding horses. He was _very_ good at it, he thought.

The stable boy, Peter Parker, was very strange, however. Whatever Johnny asked him to do, no matter how unreasonable, he would simply reply by saying, “As you wish,” and no matter what it was, he would do it.

If Johnny chose to reward him with a smile, he would not faint or even seem to grow dizzy.

Johnny had no idea what to make of him. He was very perplexing.

* * *

The stable boy was very handsome, Johnny decided, with his straight white teeth, broad shoulders, and muscular arms.

Johnny often found himself staring at the stable boy's arms.

They were very nice arms.

The stable boy caught Johnny staring once. The smile he gave Johnny made Johnny's stomach feel very odd indeed, almost as though there was a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering through it.

It was not an unpleasant sensation.

Johnny left the stables immediately, and did not return for a week, despite the fact that there was not much to do at the manor, apart from riding horses.

* * *

One day, some of his father’s friends came to visit. The son of a neighboring count seemed very taken with the stable boy, who was polite and courteous as always in response.

Johnny was livid, and he could not understand why.

* * *

“Sue,” he asked his sister idly, “what do you make of the stable boy?”

“I doubt whether he’ll be with us much longer, given the way the count’s son was flirting with him,” Sue said laughingly.

Johnny found her amusement perplexing, because he realized suddenly that the loss of the stable boy would be the worst event that had ever befallen him throughout his young life.

Johnny had no idea why Peter’s absence would be such a terrible occurrence, but he was determined to figure out why.

* * *

He thought and thought about it all afternoon, and well into the evening. It was nearly midnight, he was certain, before he sat up in his bed and whispered to himself, “I’m in love with the stable boy.”

The joy of newly discovered love caused him to leap instantly from being the twentieth most beautiful man alive to the sixteenth.

He was rather pleased with himself for having discovered the cause of his distress. It had required quite a lot of thinking, and Johnny was not accustomed to thinking so hard for such a prolonged period of time.

It seemed, suddenly, to be a rather pressing discovery. What would one typically do in such a situation?

He called to mind the many romances and fairy tales he had read throughout his life. It seemed to him that they always involved a scene where the lovers confessed their feelings to each other.

Yes. That was precisely what Johnny should do. He tossed the covers aside, lit a candle, and set about picking the perfect outfit.

It simply wouldn’t do to confess his love in a nightgown, after all.

* * *

When Johnny was at last satisfied with his outfit—a blue-and-silver tunic that matched his eyes rather perfectly, he was told—he set out for the stables.

There was bright candlelight shining from the cracks in the door and windows, so Peter was most certainly still awake.

Johnny rushed forwards more rapidly. Love awaited him, after all, and he was most eager to greet it.

He rapped at the door, and Peter opened it. Johnny felt rapturously happy at the sight of his love’s dear visage.

“I came to tell you that I have recently discovered that I’m in love with you,” Johnny began. “I am absolutely certain of this fact. I believe I love you more now than I did when I discovered it an hour ago, and I expect I shall love you more an hour from now. I always thought my true love would be a beautiful prince, who would come along and sweep me up on his beautiful white horse, so you must forgive me for taking so long to realize that my true love is a stable boy who is always covered in dirt and horse muck, even if he is very beautiful."

Peter shut the door in his face without so much as a word.

Johnny stumbled backwards, astonished. Had the stable boy rejected him? This was not how such things were supposed to go!

He had never in his life had anyone, apart from his family, refuse him anything. A smile from his perfect lips, and whatever he desired was his. Except, it seemed, the one thing he truly desired, more than anything in this world.

Johnny sighed as he wandered forlornly back to his family’s manor.

He would have to pine for Peter the rest of his life, he supposed. There was nothing else for it. People in books did it, so Johnny supposed it must be what was expected of him now.

He would have to change his clothes, of course, to something much more somber.

* * *

Johnny was busy pining on a divan, hand draped melodramatically over his eyes, when he next saw Peter. It was the afternoon that followed his unsuccessful declaration of love.

Johnny had no idea how to behave in this situation. He supposed it would not do to let Peter know he had been pining for him all day.

“Oh,” he said, sitting up as quickly as he could. “Hello. Are you here to speak to me about my declaration of love? It’s funny, you know, I hope you didn’t take my little prank seriously.”

“I’m leaving your service,” Peter said without so much as an explanation.

Johnny’s heart sank through the divan, through the floorboards, and, he was certain, through the earth beneath it.

Peter had a bag slung over his shoulder. Johnny had been so busy attempting to decide how to behave around him that he had not so much as noticed. Sue was always lecturing him for being unobservant; he supposed he now had to admit she perhaps had a point.

“To go to the count’s son?” he asked despairingly. “He’ll only use you and then leave you, you know. He’s done it to many others.”

“No,” Peter said. “I am going to America to seek my fortune.”

Johnny clutched at his handkerchief. “So far?” he asked miserably.

“Yes,” Peter confirmed heartlessly.

“Is this because of what I said?” Johnny asked.

“Yes.”

“You don’t need to leave, stable boy. I promise it won't be an issue. I understand that you don’t love me.”

“Don’t love you?” Peter said, scandalized. “What do you mean by saying that I don't love you? Are you _insane_?”

“I wasn’t the last time Sue had me examined, no,” Johnny said. “I suppose I may have gone insane between then and now, so I don’t know if that means anything.”

“Why on earth would you think that I don’t love you?” Peter asked, not sounding at all appeased.

“You shut the door in my face when I told you I loved you,” Johnny pointed out. “Normally when someone’s in love with someone else, they don’t shut the door in their love’s face. It’s simply not done.”

“I needed to plan what I was going to do next,” Peter countered. “I am going to America to seek my fortune, and once I have one, I’ll come back for you.”

“Come back…?” Johnny said. He took some time to think about what Peter had said. He could only arrive at one conclusion. He hoped it was correct, but Sue always mocked him for the unusual way his mind worked at times, so he was not entirely certain. “Does this mean you love me?”

“Do I _love_ you?” Peter asked, outraged. "How can you ask me that?"

“Oh,” Johnny replied sheepishly. “I’m sorry. It sounded as though that was what you were saying.”

"You have no idea what I'm saying, do you?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I'm trying very hard, though."

"Well," Peter sighed, "I suppose you never were very bright.”

“That’s what Sue always tells me,” Johnny confessed. “I try my best, though.”

“My dear sweet love,” Peter began, and Johnny very much liked that beginning, and he hoped Peter began every sentence that way from now on, “I love you more than words can say.”

Johnny’s heart leapt. “Do try to say it.”

“I have been studying every night for the past five years because I love you,” Peter said. “To make myself worthy of your love. I cannot remember a time when I haven’t loved you, nor when the sight of your face did not make my heart race." He paused. "Are you understanding this, or should I stop and explain?”

“No,” Johnny said. “Don’t stop. I feel that we’re getting somewhere very important, although I'm not certain where.”

“I love you,” Peter said as simply as he could. “And I would like to marry you someday. That is where we are getting. Every time you believed I was saying, 'As you wish,' my sweet Johnny, I was truly saying that I loved you.”

“Oh,” Johnny said, pleasantly surprised. “Yes, that’s much more like it.”

“Then you’ll wait for me?” Peter asked hopefully.

"Perhaps I should go with you," Johnny offered. "Then we need never be parted."

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Peter hedged.

"Why on earth not?"

"I don't think you would particularly enjoy being impoverished and homeless."

"I suppose I would not be able to wear nice clothes and ride my horses all day if I was poor. Nor would I have my nice big bed nor my fine feather pillows."

"No. I am afraid you would not."

Johnny sighed. "Pity. I do rather hate to be parted from you."

"I will return for you as soon as I can. In a year, perhaps two."

"That sounds like a _very_ long time," Johnny said sadly. "I shall be all of seventeen by then."

"Yes," Peter said. "So will I. But when I return, we shall have all our lives to spend together, and we will never be parted again, my love, I swear it. What are two years compared to a lifetime?"

"Yes," Johnny conceded. "That is an excellent point. Very well, then."

"Then you will wait for me?" 

"I shall wait for you all the days of my life. I will never love another. You are my true love, after all. You _are_ my true love, are you not?" Johnny wanted to make sure, because sometimes he leapt to conclusions that were not the correct ones, or so Sue kept telling him.

"You are most certainly mine, so I suppose that means I must be yours."

"Well," Johnny said, very pleased, "that's settled then."

This was certainly turning out much better than he had hoped.

“Yes,” Peter agreed. “I go to seek my fortune. Goodbye, my love. I will return as soon as I can.”

"I shall wait," Johnny said. "Goodbye."

Peter began to stride out of the room.

Despite having a very nice view of Peter's muscular back, Johnny was outraged. A passionate declaration of love, a promise to wait a lifetime, and Peter was not going to so much as kiss him goodbye?

No, no, no. This was simply _not_ how any topnotch goodbye scene went. Johnny had read dozens, in fairy tales and romances, and every single one of them included a passionate embrace.

Peter could not leave without kissing him. It was unthinkable.

“Peter Benjamin Parker!” Johnny bellowed wrathfully, hands at his hips. “You’re going to leave for _America_ without so much as kissing me goodbye?!”

Within less than a second, Peter’s bag had hit the floor with a dull thud as he lunged at Johnny for a kiss. 

“That’s better,” Johnny huffed, right before Peter hauled him in for a kiss.

If Johnny had known kissing could be so thrilling, he thought as Peter toppled him over onto the divan, he would have done it ages ago. But he supposed now he was spoiled for any other kisses. No one else’s could compare to those of his true love.

He worried that Sue might walk in while Peter was kissing him. It would be so very like her to spoil his first true love's kiss. To make matters worse, she would probably laugh at him if he was cross at her for it.

Thank heaven she did not.

* * *

Johnny entertained himself by doing research in the weary and painful weeks that followed Peter’s departure. He discovered that there were precisely five kisses that historians ranked as the greatest of all time. 

Johnny was determined to discover how precisely to submit a kiss for consideration. He was absolutely certain that his farewell kiss with Peter had left every kiss in history behind in the dust.

He was very upset when he thought about the fact that his true love had chosen to go find his fortune in America rather than staying and continuing to kiss Johnny until all of the greatest kisses were theirs. Whenever he recalled the sweet taste of Peter’s lips, Johnny was certain they could have managed that easily.

Johnny could kiss Peter all day, he decided, and still sigh mournfully whenever his lips were not pressed against those of his true love.

He certainly would never tire of calling Peter his true love. He was very glad that he had found his true love already. Most people had to wait many long years before they found theirs, but here Johnny was, fifteen and already as good as wed.

He sighed very often in the weeks that followed because of the absence of Peter’s lips.

He found that sitting in windows and staring out of them forlornly, handkerchief in hand, was a great comfort. 

He would content himself by imagining what it would be like when his love finally returned to him, riding across the field and down the path to his home on a beautiful white steed, his muscular body draped in the finest cloths, his strong hands covered in the the most resplendent jewels.

He would offer Johnny a ring with a diamond the size of a small pumpkin, dazzle Johnny’s mother and father with his intelligence and flawless manners as he asked for Johnny’s hand in marriage, and they would be married within a fortnight. There would be no point in waiting, since Peter was his true love, after all, and no one could argue with that, not even Sue.

Johnny should probably begin investigating what the most popular style of wedding outfits was. His Peter would stand for nothing but the finest clothing at their wedding, of course.

Once they were married, Peter would whisk him away across the sea to his home in America. It would probably be a palace. Johnny was fairly certain that everyone had palaces there, and Johnny had always wanted to live in one. Not an old drafty palace either, like the one King Doom lived in. Peter’s palace would be perfect and shiny and new, and entirely lacking in drafts.

Of course, he was careful to dress himself in his most stylish outfits as he sighed in the window, because he did not know how long it would take for his Peter to return to him, and he wanted to be prepared when he was inevitably swept off of his feet. It simply would not do for him to be wearing filthy rags—not that Johnny would ever wear rags, regardless of the reason—when Peter returned. 

Johnny took to studying his appearance in all of the windows in the house, until he discovered which one to sit in at precisely what time of day so he would look the most beautiful. He might be busy lamenting the departure of his one true love, but that did not mean he should not do his best to look beautiful while he was doing it.

When he tired of windows, he pined on the divan, and when he tired of that, he pined in the fields, among all of the flowers that had bloomed during the spring. 

Then he would remember all of the wasted springs Peter had spent in his tiny hovel by the stables, and the way he looked when he had been busy clearing out the stables, during which he, very luckily, wore no shirt. The memory of Peter's rippling muscles and very tanned skin made Johnny pine doubly hard. He was sure his sighs could be heard for miles.

The sight had been wasted on him then, since he had not yet realized that Peter was his true love. He was sure he would appreciate it now, if given half the chance, but his true love was off on his way to London, and he had taken his beautiful body with him, more's the pity.

* * *

Johnny's sister, for some incomprehensible reason, found his behavior endlessly irritating. No matter how many times Johnny told her, she could not seem to believe that Peter was indeed Johnny’s true love. Johnny found her incredulity baffling.

“You only really spoke to him _once_!” Sue bellowed. “And then he left for America! _How_ is he your true love?! You hardly _know_ him!"

“But,  _Sue_!” Johnny whined. “He said, ‘As you wish!’ to me countless times! But, don’t you see, he was really telling me he loved me! It took me some time to understand, because I can be rather slow at times, but finally I did!”

Sue stared at him as though he were stark raving mad.

Johnny shrugged, undeterred. “You had to be there, I suppose.”

“If I _had_ been there, would it sound less insane?” she asked.

“You simply don’t understand true love, Sue,” Johnny sighed. “Perhaps someday you will, when you find yours. I understand, not everyone is lucky enough to stumble across their true love when they are as young as I. But don’t worry, my dear sister, it will happen for you too, someday. You need only be patient.”

Sue’s mind suddenly flashed back to when Johnny was an infant and she accidentally dropped him. He had landed on his head.

She wondered if that was why he was acting like this. She often wondered that.

“This has nothing to do with you dropping me on my head when I was a baby, Sue!” Johnny hollered.

“I didn’t say anything,” Sue said innocently.

“No, but you were _thinking_ it,” Johnny huffed. “I can tell. Whenever you wonder if my brain was damaged as a baby, you get a very distinctive glint in your eye. I assure you my brain is undamaged.”

“I just don’t know what made you be like this, brother. I’m afraid it's somehow my fault,” she sighed.

“I’m _fine_ , Sue!” Johnny insisted. “It’s true love that afflicts me, not a damaged brain! You’ll understand someday. When you meet the love of _your_ life.”

“I doubt it,” Sue said dryly.

Johnny huffed. “When my love returns to me, my poor dearest Susan, you will see that our love is true. And then you will long for something as perfect in your sad, miserable life."

Sue’s face flushed red with anger and she stormed off without another word.

Johnny always won these fights, of course. Let no one say that he did not have brains as well as an overabundance of beauty. 

* * *

“Family,” Johnny said to his parents and his sister one morning over breakfast, “I wish to look handsomer when Peter returns, in case he meets someone more sophisticated than I during his travels. What can I do to make myself handsomer? I know I’m nearly perfect as is, but everyone can improve somehow.”

“You might want to start by taking a bath every now and then,” Sue said, sipping at her coffee.

“I would suggest a new haircut,” his mother said. “That hairstyle is not working for you, dear."

“Lose a few pounds,” his father said, without so much as looking up from his morning newspaper.

“Perhaps buy a new suit of clothes,” his mother added.

“Then take another bath,” Sue said.

“Enough!” Johnny said, raising his hands to stop them. “Enough! I get the idea!” He sighed. “Well, no one said being beautiful was easy.”

Sue rolled her eyes.

It certainly was not Johnny’s fault that she had not even made the top twenty most beautiful women in the world. He had no doubt that she could be a solid contender if she would simply try. Less dirt and muck on her face, perhaps better, less tattered clothing, and she would be a stunning beauty. 

But Sue cared nothing for those things. She spent most of her days apprenticing at the local swordmaker’s shop. He was a legend throughout Europe for his fencing skills as well as his skill as a blacksmith, it was true, but Johnny did not feel inclined to try it himself. He felt there was something distinctly undignified about swordmaking, especially if Sue’s perpetually sweaty, soot-covered appearance was any indication.

He had no idea whatsoever why Mother and Father allowed it.

* * *

Johnny’s beauty had been the result of an accident of birth, and it had been enough to earn him a spot as the twentieth most beautiful man alive.

After deliberately attempting to increase his beauty with more frequent baths, more careful selection of clothing, and a more painstakingly thorough styling of his hair, he at last managed to move from sixteen to ten.

* * *

Johnny received a letter from Peter when he reached London. He read it rapturously time and again, marveled over the beauty of Peter’s handwriting, and took to keeping it in his breast pocket, safely pressed against his heart, wherever he went.

It was as though he was being accompanied by his one true love everywhere, and that caused Johnny great joy.

Peter's letter was simple and not very detailed, but Johnny adored it regardless. It went something like this: "London is cold, and I love you. My ship leaves tomorrow, and I love you."

Johnny made sure to include daily readings of Peter’s letter during his morning pining session, and did his best to ignore Sue’s very pointed eye rolls at his lovelorn sighs.

Johnny had spent a great deal of time practicing his sighs. The very least Sue could do was appreciate their artistry.

Johnny's joy at the arrival of a letter from his true love had been more than enough to send Johnny shooting to the position of the fifth most beautiful man alive.

* * *

A mere month later, when he returned home from an afternoon of pining for his true love in the fields, he found his family looking distinctly downcast.

“What is it?” Johnny asked. “Has the goat been in the pantry again?”

“No,” Sue said. “You had perhaps better sit down, little brother. It’s Peter.”

Johnny did his best not to faint as he sat next to Sue. “Is he injured? Tell me where he is and I will fly to him!”

“He’s not injured,” Sue said. “Brother, I hate to tell you this, but your true love has perished at the hands of the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

“Roberts,” Johnny whispered. “The man who leaves no survivors. So there is no hope whatsoever.”

“None,” Sue said. “I’m so sorry.”

Johnny was devastated.

* * *

Johnny did not leave his room again for a month. Sue and his mother brought him meals, which they would leave by his door, and he would eat as much as he needed to keep alive, but nothing more.

He could not even work up the energy to pine in the window, so he mourned Peter from the comfort of his bed.

He was fifteen years old.

His true love was dead.

He would never love again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end.

When Johnny emerged from his mourning bed at last, he was dressed all in black.

He wore nothing but black for the next two years. 

It was quite the sacrifice, he thought, because he looked so resplendent in bright colors. But for the sake of his true love, he would be willing to do much more.

If he had been only the fifth most beautiful man in the world prior to Peter’s death, the wisdom he had accrued from his intense despair and sorrow had sent him careening to first place.

* * *

“Sue,” Johnny asked, “which of these belts do you think is more flattering?”

He held two black belts up against his black outfit.

“I thought you were in mourning,” Sue said from where she was sprawled across his bed, reading a book.

Sue read constantly when she was home, but, much to Johnny's great disappointment, it was never anything interesting. She turned up her nose at Johnny's favorite romances, or the bulletins on the latest fashions that he read so avidly.

No, Sue chose to read only incredibly dull books that were rather perplexingly diverse in their subject matter. Johnny could discern no pattern or meaning behind her peculiar reading habits.

One week, she would have her nose stuck in books on military strategy and leadership, the next on fair governance and revolutions, after that, puzzlingly, she would read nothing but books chronicling the deeds of the most famed outlaws—Robin Hood seemed to be her particular favorite.

His sister could be devilishly mysterious, and it was infuriating.

She kept rather odd company as well—a tall, bookish sort of man who seemed to dote on her, and an even taller man with the most peculiar accent Johnny had ever heard. Not that Sue had ever bothered to introduce him to them—he caught only glimpses through his favorite pining window as she rode off into town with them to do god knows what.

Johnny could not understand how mother and father allowed it. Most perplexing.

“Of course I am,” Johnny confirmed. "My Peter is dead. I will mourn him till the day I join him in the afterlife."

“So why do you care how you look?”

“Being in mourning doesn’t mean I don’t care about my appearance, Susan,” Johnny replied loftily. “Unlike some people. Now answer the question.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sue said sarcastically. “Should I choose the black one, or the black one? It’s difficult to choose, there are so many options.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror. “You are no help whatsoever, sister.” He examined his appearance carefully before choosing the belt on the right.

"Sue?" he ventured as he was putting his belt on.

Sue flipped a page. "Yes?"

His hands grew still. "Do you think Peter can see me from the afterlife?" 

Sue put her book down. "I don't...know," she said hesitantly. "I don't think anybody knows the answer to that."

"I hope he can," Johnny said quietly. He glanced up at his reflection mournfully. "I hope he is pleased with me."

He straightened his tunic and swept out of the room without another word, leaving Sue staring after him with a worried look on her face.

* * *

The next two years of Johnny’s life went by in a blur filled with tears and incessant mourning.

His love was dead, what interest did life hold for him now?

* * *

Unfortunately, his unwavering despair over the loss of his true love meant that he smiled far less often, which meant that his suitors had ceased swooning at his feet. 

It was very unlucky, Johnny soon discovered, that they were no longer routinely unconscious around him as he grew closer to a marriageable age. 

He was constantly bombarded with dratted marriage proposals, everywhere he went.

He could hardly seem to escape them, no matter how he tried. If he decided to mourn for Peter outdoors, in fields or by lakes, without fail three or four young men and women would stumble across him and propose to him on the spot. It was nearly impossible to mourn for his true love when he was being accosted by the incessant pleas of local villagers for his hand in marriage. 

He really had to remember to introduce more variety into his mourning schedule to make himself more difficult to locate.

When people from neighboring villages and then even foreign countries began to travel to his father's estate simply to pester him to marry them, Johnny decided that he had had more than enough.

He took it upon himself to prepare a speech to deliver to any who begged him to be their betrothed. It took him many long, tedious hours, but he was very pleased with the final result.

"I cannot say that I am at all surprised that you would desire to marry me," it read, "because I know I am very beautiful, but I fear that it will never come to pass. I have a true love, you see, and while he is currently lying at the bottom of the ocean, that does not at all alter the fact that he is my true love, nor that I have sworn to love him all of my life. I can never love another, and so I fear we can never wed. It is a great tragedy, I know, that someone as beautiful as I will never wed, but it is a necessity. I would recommend that you attempt to wed someone who is far less beautiful than I, since it will be far less likely that they have already discovered their true love. I wish you the best of luck, and offer you my sincerest condolences. Please accept this lock of my hair to console you in the dark days to come. Locks of hair are exceptionally useful when one is pining, I can assure you. Do not despair over much, I beg of you."

Johnny thought it was very good, but he doubted himself after he read it to Sue. She laughed and laughed at him and did not stop for a very long time.

When at last she did, she kissed the top of his head and told him she thought it was really very sweet, and that she expected it would do nicely. No one would doubt at all that Johnny was not fit to wed them after they heard that.

Sue never understood the travails that came with true love, so Johnny decided it was best to ignore her.

He stuck his speech in his pocket, determined to use it at the first opportunity.

* * *

He had ample opportunity the next morning, while he was pining for his dear sweet Peter next to what he liked to imagine had been Peter's favorite lake. He had no idea whether Peter had ever so much as visited this lake, but he liked to think that Peter would have very much loved it if he had.

There were swans in the lake, and Johnny had always felt a strong kinship with swans. They seemed to understand the burden that came with such beauty and grace.

While he was pining, he was proposed to by no less than three people—a butcher, a seamstress, and an earl from a neighboring kingdom who had traveled by carriage for over a week to beg for Johnny's hand in marriage. 

While the earl was most certainly the best dressed of the lot, Johnny thought the seamstress' proposal was by far the sweetest. She started out rather badly, he had to admit. She made the grievous error of complimenting Johnny's eyes.

Johnny had decided he was exceptionally bored of people who complimented his eyes, because it was so predictable and so very dull. 

Every part of his body was extraordinarily beautiful, and yet people fixated so on his hair and on his eyes. Johnny could understand being stricken, at first glance, with their divine beauty, but still, one grew rather tired of hearing about it after awhile.

The seamstress did not catch his attention until she complimented his sublimely-shaped ears. Johnny rather liked it when people complimented his ears. They were one of those body parts that did not receive nearly enough attention to satisfy him. In fact, he could recall only three other people who had ever done so, which was simply disgraceful.

Come to think of it, he did not believe anyone had ever complimented his knees, which was a grievous oversight on their part. His knees were perfection itself. 

His dear Peter would have complimented his knees, he was sure of it. Perhaps he even would have written sonnets commemorating their beauty.

He sighed so loudly at that thought that he startled a nearby flock of swans into darting to the other side of the lake. 

He did not believe that he would ever recover from the loss of his true love and the bliss he was certain they would have shared together.

Johnny's life would be spent dreaming of the one perfect kiss they had shared, the way Peter's strong arms had felt wrapped tight around him, the taste of his sun-kissed lips that had lingered in Johnny's mouth for days afterwards, and that he would never, ever forget.

* * *

At first he took the time to read his speech to his suitors, but eventually he grew bored of that, and took to painstakingly copying it and handing it over without a word to anyone who asked him to marry them.

He was forced to remove the section about the lock of his hair, because he found that he was rapidly running out of hair. It was very unfortunate that he was being proposed to at a rate greater than he could grow new hair.

He even went to consult with a miracle worker to see if there was some way his hair could magically be made to grow faster, but the miracle man explained that his hair would not be as golden-hued nor as silky-smooth, and Johnny decided it was not worth the sacrifice.

There was nothing else for it. His poor suitors would have to go without locks of his beautiful, beautiful hair. He was sure they would all be heartbroken if they knew, so he thought it best never to tell them.

* * *

Johnny became far more cautious in his wanders through the countryside once rumors of a highwayman named Malice began to spread. 

He and his accomplices delighted in attacking the Knights of the Doomsguard, they said, and stole from the king and his allies all that they could. There had even been rumors of a rash of disappearances of local villagers.

Johnny grew increasingly worried. He was very fearful that this Malice would stumble across him, and, enchanted by his beauty, decide to abduct him or perhaps even seduce him.

Johnny had led a very sheltered life on his father's estate in the country, and so he had no idea what precisely seduction entailed. He simply knew that the heroes and heroines in his romances were constantly being seduced by beautiful highwaymen, pirates, and princes.

It sounded quite terrible for one who had already found his one true love and had no desire to be seduced by anyone, no matter how beautiful.

When he confessed his fears to Sue, she laughed and reassured him that it was not likely to happen. She said that she suspected that Malice and his henchmen would have very little interest in Johnny.

Johnny doubted that very much. Sue always underestimated the effect that his beauty had on others. She simply did not understand, because she was his sister and entirely immune to his many, many charms.

She _was_ frequently guilty of finding him adorable, however, and Johnny found that indescribably infuriating, because it usually involved kissing—and worse yet  _pinching—_ his cheek as though he were yet a child, when Johnny was most certainly not. He was a handsome, strapping young man, and Sue absolutely had to stop treating him as though he were a child someday.

He realized that she was _well_ past her prime and had reached the exceptionally old age of twenty-five, but that was no excuse for treating those who were still young and beautiful as though they were children.

Johnny dreaded the day he would turn twenty-five. He decided that he would commit to wearing nothing but black when he reached that age, in mourning for his dear, departed youth.

* * *

Johnny's life changed forever one dull spring morning.

He was riding his favorite strawberry roan stallion and thinking about his dear Peter's shoulders when a man on a black charger galloped up alongside him, took hold of his reigns, and forced him to stop.

Johnny stared at him, wide-eyed and dumbstruck. Good god! It was the king. Johnny had seen him often enough in parades to recognize him instantly.

Apart from which, he was wearing his customary green cape. Johnny thought it was hideous, and not very fashionable, but he supposed it would not do to tell the king that.

He might become cross at Johnny, and if he did, Johnny's life would most certainly be in danger.

The king had a bad habit of executing people with whom he was cross. Sometimes Johnny wished he possessed the power to do that. If he did, he knew precisely what he would do. He would order all of his armies to hunt down the Dread Pirate Roberts, and Johnny would have him hanged for taking his dear love away from him.

It must be very nice to be a king.

“I am Doom,” the king said, in a booming, authoritative voice, “and you will marry me.”

Johnny was rather dumbfounded at that. He had been proposed to by all manner of men and women, but never by a king. Of course, he understood the king's desire to marry him perfectly—no one else in the kingdom was quite as beautiful as Johnny. But Johnny had no desire to marry him at all. Wealth, riches, he cared nothing for that, not when it was true love that was at stake.

“Yes, well, I’m Johnny," he found himself saying, although he had no idea from what depths he had found the courage to say it, "and I most certainly will not.”

The king seemed taken aback. “I am Doom," he said, "and you cannot say no.”

“I’m Johnny," he continued, more boldly, "and I’m fairly certain I just did.”

“To refuse the will of Doom is certain death.”

“Well, I suppose I will have to die then.”

“You would rather die than marry Doom?”

“Yes. My apologies, sire.”

“Doom insists on knowing why.”

“Because marriages mean love, and I cannot ever love again.”

“Doom requires a husband to deal with trivial social duties with which Doom cannot be bothered. Love is irrelevant.”

“Well, that's good, because my true love is dead. There were pirates, you see. So that is out of the question.”

“Doom would not desire your love if he had it.”

“Well,” Johnny said. He tried to look on the bright side. If the king desired his company simply so that Johnny could be beautiful and witty and nothing else, Johnny was sure he could manage it. It was a great sacrifice on his part, of course, but he supposed he would be doing a favor to the entire kingdom by allowing more of its denizens the opportunity to gaze upon his beauteous visage. There was something to be said for doing one's duty to king and country, Johnny supposed. This was a rather unconventional way of fulfilling it, Johnny had to admit, but he supposed that could hardly be helped now. “King Johnny. I suppose I could get used to that.”

“Royal consort," Doom corrected. "You would be a prince. And we should hope so. Any husband of Doom’s would be treated with the greatest deference, and provided with the most sumptuous lifestyle.”

“Clothes?” Johnny asked hopefully. “Shoes? Servants? Horses?"

“Only the finest.”

“I believe we have a deal, then.”

If Johnny had to marry the king against his will, he might as well make sure he got something out of it.

* * *

Being beautiful was so  _difficult_ , Johnny lamented to himself as he rode home after his tête-à-tête with the king. People never appreciated how difficult it truly was.

Johnny was absolutely  _positive_  that this sort of thing never happened to ugly people. They could remain faithful to their one true love without having to worry about kings riding in out of nowhere and forcing them to marry them in lavish wedding ceremonies.

Perhaps Johnny should visit a miracle worker. Perhaps the miracle worker could make him suddenly become ugly, and then no one would want to marry him. His Peter was dead and gone, so what point was there in being beautiful?

But no, Johnny simply could not bring himself to do that to the world. He was the most beautiful man on the planet, and he had a responsibility to maintain that position as long as possible.

Besides, he had seen the second handsomest man, and he was nowhere near Johnny’s level of beauty. Also, he was not a very pleasant person. Very conceited.

Johnny was very glad he was not like that. Despite his nearly divine, unearthly beauty, he had managed to remain humble. It was a difficult feat, but having Sue as his sister had certainly helped.

* * *

“Well,” Johnny announced calmly to his family when he returned home, “I fear I am engaged to the king.”

“ _What_?!” Sue shouted, horrified, leaping to her feet dramatically. That was more like it. Finally Sue was reacting to one of his announcements with the appropriate degree of emotion. “The tyrant? Oh, Johnny! How on earth did that happen?”

“I was just riding along, perfectly innocently,” Johnny sighed, resigned to his cruel fate already. “And he rode up to me on his black charger and ordered me to marry him before I had so much as spoken a word to him. Clearly, he was mesmerized by my stunning beauty. It's quite a curse, dear sister, to be so beautiful, but I am sure you know nothing about that.”

Sue got that look on her face that meant she was about to smack the back of his head. Johnny sidled away so that his father was between them. His father would protect him from Sue’s more violent tendencies, he hoped.

“When?” his father demanded. “You are only seventeen! The king is thirty if he is a day! You are not yet of marriageable age!"

"Your father is quite correct," his mother said. "It is entirely out of the question."

“He said that he had to make sure I was properly trained in the ceremonial duties necessary for the royal consort,” Johnny said. “Etiquette and all that. I expect it might be some time before the actual wedding. He wants to whisk me away to his castle to begin training me next week.”

“I forbid it!” his father bellowed. “We shall see about this. I may not be the king, but I have some political clout.”

He stormed out of the room. 

"I am not the king either, and neither do I have a great deal of political clout, but I have a sewing circle. We shall see how well the tyrant stands against a band of wrathful mothers and wives," his mother declared. "He dare not send his Doomsguard against us, I am certain, even if he is a filthy, unscrupulous tyrant."

She stormed out as well.

"Worry not, brother," Sue said, patting his shoulder. "Your family will do all it can to protect you. I must go now, and see what it is that I can do to save you. On my honor as a Storm, the tyrant shall never lay a finger on you, not so long as I draw breath."

She stormed out, hot on her parents' heels.

Well, Johnny thought ruefully. Now he saw where his sister got it from. Perhaps that was where his family had earned the last name Storm. Johnny supposed he should work on his storming-out skills. He was better at languishing in windows, sighing after his lost love.

That reminded him, he had been so busy riding his stallion and being proposed to by the king that he had not had a chance to mourn Peter properly today. He supposed he had best go put on his Wednesday pining outfit and then sit in the northwestern window of the house. The light would be ideal for pining right now.

* * *

Who proposed to someone on a  _Wednesday_? Johnny thought bitterly as he changed his clothes. Clearly Sundays were the best day, when everyone was wearing their finest Sunday clothes. The king probably thought Johnny was a beggar, given what he had been wearing. Johnny had better taste in fashion than that, thank you very much.

* * *

Johnny’s mother and father were dead within the week. An accident, driving home from a meeting outside of town that Johnny was certain was about stopping the king from marrying him.

Before Johnny even had time to properly mourn them, the king had arrived at his home, dragged him onto his black charger without so much as a by your leave, and taken him to his castle.

All part of the burden of being beautiful, Johnny supposed as he clung to Doom, jostling against his uncomfortable steel armor with every one of his Doomsteed’s giant strides. He could not even mourn his parents in peace.

* * *

Johnny spent much of the next year learning how to speak at dinner parties, what title to use when addressing every conceivable member of the nobility, what clothes to wear to what occasions, etc.

In that time, he became remarkably polished, poised, and well-spoken. It only added to his already extraordinary beauty. If he had been the most beautiful man alive prior to his training, once it was over he was most certainly the most beautiful man of the past hundred years.

He was certain the king was pleased with his progress, even though he rarely ever saw him. They had spoken perhaps five times the entire time Johnny had lived there, and Johnny had only seen him a handful of times beyond that at balls and other official ceremonies. 

Johnny was both outraged by and grateful for the king’s neglect.

Did the king not want to marvel at Johnny’s beauty and sigh? If Johnny had a soon-to-be husband who was as beautiful as Johnny was, Johnny knew that that was what he would be doing all day. Hang running the country.

If his beloved Peter had lived long enough for them to be engaged and wed, Johnny would have spent many days gazing into his true love’s eyes and sighing. He was certain Peter would be happy to oblige, and perhaps even sigh with him at the blissful sight of Johnny’s face.

But then again, Johnny did not very much like the king, so he was very glad to be spared his company. He tended to dislike people who threatened to kill him and then forced him to marry them.

Besides, the king was very, very old. Perhaps thirty or so. Johnny did not particularly want to have to look at his age-ravaged face for a prolonged period of time. He was very certain that he had seen a wrinkle in the corner of his eye the last time he had laid eyes on the king. How repulsive.

* * *

Johnny found living at the castle unspeakably dull and lonely. He missed the days when he could simply sit in his windows at home and sigh over Peter. He had even begun sectioning off time to grieve the loss of his parents before he was whisked away by the king.  

The windows in the castle were not ideal for pining, Johnny discovered. Too narrow and drafty.

To make matters worse, he was forbidden by the king from wearing mourning clothes, even though he persisted in wearing a black armband to remind others of the great sorrows that had filled his life and wrested his true love and his parents away from him. 

His sole consolation was lying in his bed, when he was not busy with his lessons, and reading Peter's letter, over and over again, until he could recite every word of it from memory.

He would oftentimes wonder what his life would have been had his beloved Peter returned to him. They would be happily wed by now, he expected, and Johnny's life would have been filled with unending bliss. Johnny was certain he would not be so lonely and miserable, trapped in a cold, drafty castle, forced to spend hours memorizing what fork to use when at a royal banquet, and crying himself to sleep over the loss of his true love and his family nearly every night. 

He missed his mother, he missed his father, he missed his sister, and he missed his true love.

His sister's absence was particularly painful. He frequently found himself at a loss as to what to think about people and occurrences in his life without Sue to speak to about them. He had not entirely understood to what degree he relied upon her opinion, until she was no longer around to give it.

She visited him occasionally, as often as Doom would allow, but never enough to satisfy Johnny or Sue.

She was the only person Johnny loved who yet drew breath. If Johnny had had his way, he would never have allowed her out of his sight, out of fear that she would join his parents and his true love in the grave. 

* * *

Johnny was in his bedroom, at his dressing table, being groomed by his servants and only half dressed, when Doom at last announced that he was setting the date for their wedding.

The man seemed to delight in catching Johnny unawares.

He marched in, dismissed Johnny’s servants with a sharp wave of his hand, and told Johnny he needed to speak to him immediately.

“What do you wish to speak to me about, sire?” Johnny asked deferentially, as he had been taught. He rose to his feet.

He felt very awkward and naked standing before the king in nothing but a pair of trousers. He hugged his arms to his chest to cover himself up as much as possible.

“You are of age now,” the king declared.

"Yes, sire, I know," Johnny said, dreading where this was going.

“Doom has decided that the wedding will be in a month, during our celebration of Florin's five-hundred-year anniversary. You are ready to be the prince of Doom.”

“Oh,” Johnny said, not very enthusiastically. His eyes dropped to the floor. He had never been very excited about any of this. “A month. That is very soon, sire.”

Doom reached out and caressed Johnny’s neck. Johnny glanced up at him, wide-eyed and startled.

“You will make Doom most excellent company,” he said, raking his eyes up Johnny’s half-naked body. Johnny was not used to being looked at quite so lewdly. His admirers tended to be deferential, especially now that he was their future prince.

Johnny’s face flushed. “Sire,” he said, “you said there would be no—no  _love_  involved in this marriage. I thought it would be purely ceremonial.”

“You are most beautiful,” Doom replied. “It would be quite a pity if Doom never once took advantage of your beauty. And once we are wed, Doom will share your bed whensoever he pleases. Doom must claim your maidenhead to make the marriage legal, after all.”

Johnny had not realized that when he had agreed—however unwillingly—to marry Doom. If he had, he would have plunged a dagger deep into his heart the moment he reached his home.

But now daggers were in short supply, and Johnny abruptly understood why. He was a prisoner here, as surely as he would have been had Doom locked him in his dungeons.

The thought only served to make him more miserable than he already was. He had not thought it possible.

"You do not object, I trust?" Doom asked, and Johnny was not so lacking in wit that he did not take note of the veiled menace in his words. "I would be most unhappy if you neglected to fulfill your duties as my prince."

With a shudder of horror, Johnny recalled the fate of the last man who had refused to fulfill one of Doom's commands. It had been last week, when Johnny had for the first time seen a man roasted alive, slowly. The ear-piercing screams still haunted his dreams, as did the evil smirk on the face of Count Norman—the king's right-hand man and chief torturer—as he watched his handiwork. 

Since then, the very thought of the king made his skin crawl.

It suddenly occurred to him that it had been the first time Johnny had been made to witness a public execution since his stay in the castle. He wondered if Doom had intentionally ordered that he be present in order to make clear what precisely were the consequences of saying no to the king.

If he had learned anything of importance throughout the past year, it was that the king was not a man to whom anyone ever said no. Not to his face, at the very least. 

“No, sire,” he murmured. "Of course not."

* * *

The instant the door closed behind Doom, Johnny began to rub frantically at his neck and shoulder where Doom’s fingers had brushed against his skin, desperate to rid himself of the taint of Doom's touch. 

He found Doom's touch extraordinarily disturbing, and would do whatever necessary to ensure that Doom's skin never again touched his own. 

He decided that it was imperative to discover a way to escape the castle and his soon-to-be marriage.

"Clothes," he muttered to the empty room. "Need more clothes."

It took him the better part of an hour, but at last he managed to assemble an outfit that was both stylish and revealed as little skin as possible. 

He swore to himself that he would continue to dress in this manner so long as he resided in Doom's palace and was Doom's royal consort.

Never again would the tiniest sliver of unnecessary skin be revealed around Doom on the off chance he was feeling amorous again. 

Johnny shuddered, disgusted at the mere thought.

He was busy examining his outfit in the mirror when there was an unexpected rap at the door. Johnny began to panic, before he realized that Doom never bothered to knock—he simply strode in wheresoever he pleased, as though he owned it, because, of course, he did. The problem was that he seemed to believe that he owned Johnny as well, and that he most certainly did not.

"Who's there?" Johnny inquired tentatively.

"It's Sue."

Johnny nearly wept tears of joy.

He ran to the door, threw it open, and hauled his dear sister inside the now somewhat violated safety of his bedroom. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her fiercely. "Sue!" he shouted. "Thank god! Sister, you have to save me!"

"What?" she asked. "What happened now?"

"Doom wishes to bed me on our wedding night!" he said frantically. "And he claims the right to share my bed whenever he pleases! We are to be married in a _month_! You cannot allow that to happen! I swore that I would only ever surrender my maidenhead to my one true love!"

"Maidenhead?" Sue asked, scrunching up her nose.

" _That's_  what you fixate on?" Johnny demanded indignantly. "Not the part where my future husband wishes to ravage me?"

"You're right, brother," Sue said. Johnny believed that was the first time Sue had ever said that to him, so he was very pleased with himself. "But fear not, I will not allow him to touch you. The plan is all in place."

"The plan?" Johnny asked, frowning. "What plan?"

"To free you."

"To free me? There's a plan to free me?"

"Yes."

"Why on earth is there a plan to free me already in place?"

"Because I came to tell you something I was sure would mean that you would not wish to marry Doom anyhow. I have worked hard this past year to discover the truth of it, though I have long suspected."

"What did you think you could say?" Johnny said. "I already knew my husband-to-be was not the most honorable man—he threatened to kill me if I did not marry him, and that was reason enough to loathe him. And the horrors I have seen since I have been here, Susan! I saw a man burn alive last week! He is a despot and a tyrant!"

Sue got that look on her face that meant she was about to smack his head. Johnny backed away from her slowly.

"You never told me any of that!" she shouted at him. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have saved you ages ago!"

"You honestly believed I would in any way desire to marry an old man?" Johnny said scornfully. "Who wears unfashionable green capes, and refers to himself in the third person?"

"I simply assumed...he's incredibly wealthy. He's the king. You'd be a prince, like one of your fairy tale heroes. I thought you would perhaps be taken in by all of that."

Johnny crossed his arms and glared at her. "My dearest Susan, whatever flaws I do possess, I can assure you that being an idiot is not one of them."

"Well, why did you never tell me? I have wasted a year gathering the evidence to persuade you to abandon this foolish marriage! I could have saved you ages ago!"

"I didn't think you could do anything to help, and that it would only worry you, but now I am desperate, sister, and you  _must_  save me!"

"Of course I can save you, Johnny," Sue scoffed. "I've been part of the resistance movement for years."

Johnny's mouth fell open. "You  _have_?!" he asked.

"And so were father and mother before me."

"Why did no one tell me this?" 

"Because you were too young and, uh, too  _you_ , and then because the king tore you away from me. I am surprised you never noticed. It would have been rather obvious if you had been paying attention. I keep telling you that you are very unobservant, brother, but you never believe me."

"I would have wanted to know about your involvement, Sue. And help, if I was able, although I do not know what it was I could have done."

"I am very glad to hear that, brother," Sue said with a pleased smile. "You have heard of me, you know. They call me Malice."

" _You_?" Johnny said, floored. " _You_ are the legendary highwayman? The scourge of the Doomsguard? The king shouts about you very often, you know, sister dear. He is very loud and angry when he does. I can hear him shout from here. He is not fond of you at all."

"Well," Sue said. "That's rather the point, brother."

"Then mother's sewing circle—"

"Were actually resistance fighters. Spies, really. They were all very skilled with a blade, every last one of them. They tended to specialize in infiltration, theft, and reconnaissance. No one suspects a group of middle-aged ladies of being spies. Mother was their leader, and rather famous within their circles."

"And father?" 

"Not quite as influential as mother, but he had his moments, until Doom—" She cut herself off, looked searchingly at Johnny, and asked, "Are you certain you are ready to hear this?"

Johnny nodded. "Yes," he said. "I must know. What is it that you believe you have discovered about my betrothed?"

"I do not know how else to say it, so I shall simply say it—I believe Doom murdered our parents. Whether it was to gain unbridled access to you, or whether he simply discovered their true allegiances, I do not know."

Johnny pressed a hand to his breast and sank down on his bed. It was worse than he had feared. "I hope it was not because of me," he said faintly. "I do not desire the deaths of any more loved ones on my conscience. I have already lost my beloved Peter because of my beauty." His hands curled into fists. "Being beautiful is such a curse! I oftentimes wish I had been born ugly, or at the very least only somewhat beautiful, like you."

"I know, little brother," Sue said. She sat next to him, draped an arm around his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I know." 

Johnny shut his eyes and allowed his sister to comfort him. She stroked his hair softly, and Johnny found it very soothing.

"I have had a very difficult time of it recently, sister," he said weepily. "Nothing has been the same since my dear Peter died."

"Yes," Sue agreed. "He was a very brave boy, I must say. He aided with the resistance as well, beginning when he was eight or so, after his aunt and uncle's death. We were very sorry to lose him. I must admit, part of why I was so very angry with you for falling in love with him was because it meant that we lost one of our best fighters. If you had to fall in love with someone, I suppose I am rather glad it was him, even if you were both far too young at the time."

"Peter fought with the resistance?" Johnny asked, surprised.

"Yes, brother dear," Sue said. 

Johnny sighed. "Brave as well as beautiful. I would have been so very happy with him, sister."

"I know, dearest, but there is simply no point in dwelling on the past," she said. "We must push forwards."

“How long must I wait before you can free me?” he inquired. "Please say it will be soon. I truly cannot bear to be engaged to the man who murdered my parents a moment longer than I must."

“Two weeks to the day,” Sue said. “Make sure you go on your morning ride through the forest. Let nothing stop you."

* * *

A week later, Johnny was presented to the people of Florin.

His servants informed him that there was a great deal of excitement. Rumors had been flying round and round about his extraordinary beauty for a year, each more extravagant than the last.

Johnny began to be nervous about his beauty for the first time in his life. What if the people of Florin were disappointed in him? What if he was not as beautiful as they hoped?

He knew that there had been much controversy when Doom had first announced that his future husband was the son of a poor country squire. His beauty had done much to justify the choice. 

For centuries, there had been quite a competition between Florin and Guilder, a rivaling kingdom, over the beauty of their royal family. 

Florin had been losing for the last two centuries, and Guilder's tendency to gloat was, in a word, obnoxious.

Great hopes had been placed on the eldest son of King Nathaniel and Queen Evelyn, who had, by all accounts, been rather handsome for a crown prince, but he had been lost at sea when he was little more than twelve, right around the time Johnny had been born.

The entire kingdom had mourned his unfortunate and much too premature death.

Victor, the younger brother who, much to everyone's annoyance, had taken to calling himself Doom after his coronation, had done his best to erase all record of his beloved older brother in a fit of jealous rage over his popularity.

Few even recalled what the crown prince had looked like, other than that he had been rather dashing and good-looking, even for a boy. They remembered, however, that he had been kind, fair, compassionate, and just. In other words, he had been the precise opposite of his brother. 

Doom was, unfortunately, not much to look at, or so everyone agreed. Johnny suspected that Doom's ugliness had perhaps more than a little to do with his determination to have the divinely pretty Johnny as his prince.

* * *

Johnny was rather pleased when the crowd gasped in wonder when he appeared before them for the first time.

His servants had outdone themselves. 

He had once thought that the number of servants Doom had assigned to him had been rather excessive—there were five whose job it was to comb his golden hair every morning and every night until it shone like spun gold, two assigned to each hand, one to each foot, three to his face, and seven for everything else—but now he was rather glad.

He thought that he was positively glowing after their ministrations. More resplendent than ever.

His eyes combed through the crowd, searching for Sue, but he was very high up, and could not spot her. He thought that he perhaps spotted the tall, thin, brown-haired man she spent so much time with, but he was not certain.

Doom took Johnny's hand after he concluded his lengthy, dull speech that Johnny had not bothered to listen to, and Johnny was so very glad that he was wearing gloves so that his skin did not touch Doom's.

Doom raised Johnny's hand above his head, and the crowd cheered. Johnny was pleased by that, at the very least. They seemed very excited to have Johnny as their prince. Probably because they would at last defeat Guilder's royal family, and it would be their turn to brag for a few decades.

"Come," Doom commanded. "That is enough. We do not want them to tire of your beauty too quickly."

"No," Johnny said, not wanting to walk back in with the king if he could avoid it. "I would like to walk among them."

"That is dangerous," Doom cautioned. "I would not recommend it."

"I think I shall be quite safe, your highness," Johnny replied, and took off down the stairs.

These small defiances were all Johnny had to prove to himself that he was not Doom's plaything.

The people gasped and sighed, ooh-ed and aah-ed, at the sight of Johnny's beautiful face.

When Johnny smiled at them, the twenty closest to him dropped to the ground in a dead faint, overwhelmed by his beauty.

Rats, Johnny thought. He must remember to keep from smiling at them. He did not wish for anyone to be injured because of him.

But he had worked so hard to learn how to be a prince, and this was likely to be his sole opportunity to put it to any kind of use. 

Johnny's attention was caught briefly by a very mysterious man dressed all in black, from the bottom of his boots to the top of his mask, standing up on the battlements, and staring down at Johnny fixedly, one hand resting lightly on his sword, the sun glinting blindingly off of it.

How dramatic, Johnny thought admiringly, squinting up at the man. How very perfect was his poise, the breadth of his muscular shoulders, the aura of mystery that surrounded him. 

Johnny hardly had the time to wonder who on earth the man could be before the Doomsguard swept him back into the relative safety of the castle.

Johnny could not help but think that he had been ever so much safer among the commoners than he was among the aristocracy.

* * *

Two weeks later, Johnny did as his sister requested. He had not gone too far at all when he came across three strangers waiting by the side of the road.

One was wearing a rather large hat, his blond hair shoved up beneath it, a very beautiful sword strapped to his hip. He seemed to be the leader. 

"Hello," Johnny said amicably. "Did my sister send you?"

"Johnny," the strange man said, "it's me."

Johnny peered at the man's face. "Sue?" he said, mouth gaping, as he realized who it was. "What on earth are you  _wearing_? Why do you have whiskers? And why do you have a sword? Swords are dangerous. Mother never let  _me_  use a sword."

Sue rolled her eyes and the other two men with her shot a look at each other. Johnny had no idea why. "This is my disguise as Malice, of course, so that I will not be recognized. Now get off the horse," she ordered. 

Johnny clutched at the reigns. "But I _like_ my horse."

Sue pressed a hand to her face. "Johnny," she said, "it is imperative that we make the king believe you were kidnapped. So get off the horse."

"He's a very nice horse," Johnny hedged. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

"Of course not, brother," she replied, dismounting and holding out a hand to help Johnny off of his rather beautiful horse. The saddle was brand-new as well. A present from the king. 

Johnny heaved a sigh—he was very good at sighing, and he thought it was best to stick to his strengths—and dismounted. 

"Hello," he said to his sister's friends. He had seen them both before, but he had never been introduced. "I'm Prince Johnny, the royal consort. It is your privilege to gaze upon the handsomest man alive."

The one with the streak of grey hair that marred the brown—Johnny would have been very cross if his hair had done that—squinted at him. "Yes," he said slowly. "Sue has mentioned who you are. We feel very honored, I assure you. I'm Reed, your Highness. Most people call me the Sicilian."

"Why on earth would they do that?" Johnny asked, frowning.

"Because I am from Sicily?" 

" _Oh_ ," Johnny replied, wrinkling his nose disapprovingly. " _Sicily_. I have heard it is  _not_  very fashionable."

"Oh,  _brother_ ," the other man said, rolling his eyes. Johnny thought for the thirtieth time that he was the biggest man Johnny had ever seen. "Suzy wasn't kiddin'. I wuz hopin' she wuz kiddin'."

"Who are  _you_?" Johnny said. 

"Ben," he said. "The giant."

"Oh," Johnny said. "Yes, I understand why someone would call you that. I feel very sorry for your horse."

Ben threw his head back and glanced up at the heavens. He seemed exasperated. Johnny had no idea why.

He whirled back to his sister when he heard cloth tearing. She was tearing apart a Guilder banner.

"Why on earth are you doing that, sister?" he asked. Her behavior was truly incomprehensible at times.

"We need them to think that Guilder abducted you," she said. 

"Oh!" Johnny said excitedly. "Are we going to Guilder? I hear it's  _very_  nice this time of year."

Sue scrunched her eyes shut. "No, little brother. We are  _not_  going to Guilder. We want them to  _think_  that we're going to Guilder, when actually we are going elsewhere."

"Oh," Johnny said. "That's very clever, Sue." Johnny had always been jealous of Sue, because she had always been so very clever. He would have to sit and think for hours about things people said before he understood them, but she understood everything instantly. "Are you sure we can't go to Guilder?"

"Very sure," Sue said.

"How disappointing," Johnny said. "So where are we off to, then, if not Guilder?"

"I do not believe that I want to tell you," she replied. "I am certain you will not like it."

Johnny cast a suspicious look at Reed. "We are not going to Sicily, are we?" he whispered to Sue. "I don't think I would enjoy Sicily very much, Sue."

Reed pressed a hand to his face.

" _No_ ," Sue hissed, frowning disapprovingly at him. "Not Sicily. My sincerest apologies, Reed. That was very rude, Johnny."

"Apology accepted, Sue," Reed sighed. "I understand. Your brother is simply...different."

"Yes," Johnny agreed. "I am very different because I am much more beautiful than anyone else."

"Yes," Reed said. He seemed to be nearly laughing. Johnny could not, for the life of him, understand why. "Of course. That is precisely what I meant."

Johnny was scandalized when Sue began to slash at Johnny's brand-new saddle with her sword.

"Sue!" he shouted. He reached out to grab at her wrist. Sue gave him a look, and he let go immediately. She could be rather terrifying when she wanted to be. "What are you  _doing_ , Sue?"

"I need them to think there was a struggle," she said.

"That saddle is brand new!" he exclaimed. "A present from the king himself!"

"This would be the same king you're trying to escape from?" Reed said dryly. 

"The very same," Johnny replied, already planning on mourning his saddle the next time he got near a window or had a free moment in a field. "He may be an evil tyrant, but he has very good taste in saddles."

Sue sent his horse galloping back to the castle.

"My  _horse_!" Johnny shouted indignantly. "Why did you  _do_  that, Sue?"

"We have another horse for you," she said, and pointed at a roan mare that was standing, riderless, next to Reed. "It's even roan, because I know you like that color."

"But my horse was  _better_ ," Johnny lamented. "Couldn't we have kept my horse and sent yours back?"

Sue stared at him blankly for a few moments, before shaking her head, pushing past him, and heading for her own horse. "Get on the damn horse, brother," she ordered. 

"Sue!" Johnny said, scandalized. "Mother would disapprove of such language."

"Mother's the one who taught me to swear, brother," Sue said, as she got on her horse.

" _Mother_  taught you to swear?" Johnny asked incredulously. 

"She was renown for her prowess as a cusser," Reed told him. "She was very impressive, I must say."

"I suppose you cuss as well?" Johnny asked, eyeing the horse his sister had brought for him disdainfully.

"Yes," Reed said. "Sometimes. Don't you?"

"No," Johnny said, reluctantly mounting the clearly inferior horse that he was much too beautiful for. He could only hope that no one he knew saw him on it. Apart from Sue, who already had, but she did not care about such things. "Perhaps I should start. I tend to sigh instead of cussing."

"Yes," Reed said. "Your sister mentioned that as well."

"I cuss all the time. I can teach you, kid," Ben offered. 

"Yes," Johnny said. "I think I would like that. I've learned many things at the palace, but never that. It would be a way to honor my dear mother's memory."

"Yeah, kid," Ben said, humoring him. "That sounds like a good reason."

"Where are you from?" Johnny asked. "Not Sicily, I hope?"

Reed rolled his eyes.

"'Merica," Ben replied.

"Oh," Johnny sighed. "My true love was headed for America when he was murdered by the Dread Pirate Roberts. Is it nice there?"

"'S okay," Ben said, shrugging. 

"Are there many palaces?" Johnny asked.

"No, kid, there ain't any," Ben said.

"There aren't?"

"Nope."

"Oh. How disappointing. I don't think I want to go there anymore. Sue, please remind me that I don't want to go there anymore. If my true love was alive, I suppose I would have. I expect I would have been very happy. I would have been so busy gazing into his eyes, I probably would have failed to notice we weren't living in a palace. Sue tells me I am very unobservant."

"Because you  _are_!" Sue shouted at him, throwing up her hands. "Now  _ride_ , brother, like all of hell is following on our heels, because it shall be shortly."

"Yes," Johnny sighed, "the king will  _not_  be happy to have lost me. There's no one else as beautiful as I in the entire kingdom. The entire world, really. It is quite unfortunate."

Sue smacked the back of his head. Johnny was normally very good at avoiding it, but there were times when she snuck up on him.

"Stop ruining my dramatic moments!" she shouted at him, before galloping off. 

The others scrambled to follow after her.

Johnny fought hard to shove down his terror as he rode. What on earth would he do if Doom captured him again? He expected his life would be far less pleasant than it had been, at the very least, if he managed to survive it at all.

Death was preferable to once more being under Doom's power. Of that he was certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Doom does force Johnny to agree to marry him, threaten to rape Johnny on their wedding night, and there is some creepy and nonconsensual touching of Johnny's neck. No actual rape will occur in this story at any point. Seriously, this story is going to stay pretty G-rated.


	3. Chapter 3

It took Reed, Sue, and Ben a full twenty minutes to convince Johnny to board their ship. It did not look very sturdy. Johnny thought it would be a tragedy if he drowned at sea, because then his beautiful body would be eaten by sharks. He did not imagine that would be very pleasant for anyone but the sharks.

Reed assured him that he had built the ship himself—with Ben's help—and that it was the fastest ship in the world.

"Yes," Johnny conceded. "I suppose that's possible. Couldn't you have made it a little more beautiful? It's most certainly not the most _beautiful_ ship in the world."

"Brother!" Sue growled. "Get on the damn ship or I will toss you over my shoulder and carry you on! We don't have time for this!"

Johnny sighed. It was what he was best at after all, apart from being beautiful, and he needed to practice. "Very well, sister, if I must."

He shut his eyes and leapt onboard.

It really was not a very sturdy ship.

* * *

Johnny watched silently as the others scurried around the ship, hauling ropes and fixing the sail. 

He supposed he should help, but he had never been onboard a ship before, so he had no idea how to help. After what had happened to his beloved Peter, he had sworn he would never go near the accursed sea that had so cruelly taken his one true love from him, so on second thought, it was quite a concession for him to be on a boat in the first place.

"Reed," Sue said once they were comfortably on their way, "calculations."

Johnny had the distinct impression that this was something they did rather often, although he had no idea what it meant. He expected he would discover what it meant momentarily.

"Our young Prince Jonathan's horse will return, riderless of course, to the palace within twenty-seven minutes," Reed said as he worked the tiller with a calm assurance Johnny found very comforting. Reed was evidently very used to traveling by sea. Perhaps the ship would not sink after all. Well, Johnny could only hope. "It will take them several more minutes—let us assume fifteen or twenty—to ascertain what transpired, alert the king, and assemble the Doomsguard. By the time they trace the horse's hoof marks, follow them, and learn that we took a boat, it should be another thirty-five. I assume that our ship will be well out of sight by then. I expect that they will assume that we are heading towards Guilder, and send their fleet in that direction, which is of course the wrong one. By the time they discover the truth we will have a good three-to-four hours' lead, by which time we will likely be through the forest and at the port, where our ship will be waiting for us. I think we shall be quite safe."

"Excellent!" Johnny said, clapping his hands, impressed. "Bravo! That was quite brilliant."

"Thank you," Reed replied with a faint smile as he ducked his head to examine a compass he had pulled out of his trouser pocket.

"Yes, now on to more important business. Where is this ship that's waiting for us going to be taking us?" Johnny inquired, turning round until he spotted his sister.

Sue froze as she was unravelling a coil of rope. Johnny could see nothing but her back, but it was not a particularly promising back. It was far too tense for him to feel entirely comfortable. "Brother," she said levelly. "You won't like it. I think it's best for all of us if you don't know."

"I believe I deserve to know," Johnny said stubbornly. "And if you do not tell me, I shall simply annoy it out of you."

"Oh, no!" Sue groaned, pressing a hand to her face. "Anything but that!"

Johnny could not tell if she was teasing him, or if she meant it in earnest.

"Sue!" he whined. "Tell me! I am very serious about this!"

Sue sighed. "Very well. Remember that I am giving up quite a lot to protect you, before you start to complain. But, well, we are going to America."

Johnny's jaw dropped. "Sue! No! I have heard they live in hovels there, and that it is very muddy, and that the food is quite awful, and Ben says there are not even any palaces to make up for it, so there is not the slightest hope for social advancement or better accommodations!"

"'S not so bad, kid, really," Ben said amiably. "There are a lotta nice...trees."

"Trees?!" Johnny screeched. " _Trees_?! That is what I have to look forward to now? Trees?"

Ben shrugged. "'S a new colony. Hey, I got a friend there. Keewazi Tribe. Wingfoot, his name is in English. You'd like him, kid. He's just about your age. People say he's the most beautiful man in the Americas."

"A friendship between the most beautiful men of the New World and the Old. I rather like that," Johnny said, momentarily distracted, before his face snapped back into a scowl. "No!" he said, shaking a finger at Sue. "That does not make up for the lack of palaces, Susan! I am _adamant_ about living near palaces! Preferably _in_ one! And it must be new, and—and there can be no drafts either. None at all!"

Ben rolled his eyes and stomped over to plop down next to Reed. "Oh, I give up," he said ruefully, chin resting in his hand. "Kid's unreasonable."

"Hmph. Let me try," Sue said, walking over to Johnny coolly and sitting next to him with all of the grace that was the byproduct of years of hard training. "Johnny, dearest, do you think Doom will ever cease in his hunt for you?"

"No," Johnny conceded reluctantly. "I suppose not."

"If we remain in Europe, you must admit that he will hunt us wherever we go. Nowhere will we be safe. Your beauty is rather distinctive, what with your—" She reached up and tugged at a lock of his beautiful shining hair. "—golden hair and all. People would talk about you. No matter where we hid, word would get back to him, and he would send his Doomsguard to kidnap you. In America, we might find a measure of safety, if we live in the wild, far from anyone else, just the four of us, and keep you hidden, at least until your beauty begins to fade."

Johnny pressed a hand to his face. "No! I shall always be beautiful."

"And you shall always be hunted and coveted because of it, everywhere you go. _That_ you can never escape. And I may not always be successful in rescuing you, brother."

"The wild?" Johnny said unhappily. "I don't want to live there, Sue. It sounds dull. There are animals, and bugs, and it sounds rather unpleasant to one who is accustomed to living in the lap of luxury. With servants. Did I mention my servants? I had five who combed my hair every night and every morning, and that was all they did."

"Then we shall stay in Europe, and you can marry Doom. Won't that be nice? It will certainly be interesting, even if it is not enjoyable in the slightest. But you will have your servants!"

Johnny grimaced. "Very well. You win. A dull life in the wild it is. Sans servants."

"That's what I thought," Sue said, a smug smirk distorting her features. She shoved a filthy wet piece of rope at him. "Now help us keep this ship on course."

Johnny glanced down at the rope with a distasteful look on his face. "But...I'll ruin my beautiful hands. Do you have any idea of the effort it takes to make hands look this beautiful, Sue?"

He raised his hands so she could see them. They were soft and uncalloused and as flawlessly beautiful as every other part of him.

"No," Sue said. "But if you are living on a farm in the wild, your hands shall be quite ruined anyways."

"No!" Johnny gasped, horrified.

"Yeah," Ben said mischievously. "You might even get a tan, kid."

"Stop!" Johnny shouted, covering his ears with his hands. "I have never heard anything more horrifying in my life! Don't you dare even suggest it! Ruining my perfect complexion? How horrid!"

"And mosquito bites!" Ben continued cheerfully. "Don't forget the mosquito bites, kid. There're lots of mosquitos in America. They're everywhere and they're gigantic, and they're just waitin' to bite ya. Make bites that swell up to the size of a plum, sometimes."

"No!" Johnny said, slamming the rope down and crossing his arms stubbornly. "Absolutely not. That is the final straw. I refuse."

"Then we shall take you right back to Doom, and your hands will be beautiful and idle forever," Sue said. "But you shall be his plaything the rest of your miserable life, and that is if he does not decide to kill you for fleeing from him. Work or die, little brother."

Johnny considered that for a beat, and then sighed and took the rope from her. Anything was better than living under Doom's tyranny, he had to admit. Even disfiguring his perfect skin with something as disgusting as a tan.

* * *

It took less than ten minutes for Johnny to tumble off the ship and land in the perilous, eel-infested waters.

If it had not been for Ben's mighty arms, which plucked him from the sea in the nick of time, he might have been eaten. He was fairly hysterical afterwards.

"I knew this was going to happen!" he shouted, teeth chattering. "I knew I would be eaten alive by sharks, the moment I stepped on this pitiful excuse for a ship!"

"There're no sharks in these waters, kid," Ben said soothingly. "They're too scared o' the Shrieking Eels."

"Eels?!" Johnny screeched. "Shrieking Eels?! Sue! I was nearly eaten by eels! Oh, I think I'm going to faint! Someone catch me!"

Johnny managed to keep from fainting, but it took Sue a good twenty minutes to calm him down.

They thought it best if he did not help after that.

* * *

Johnny was very cold and wet and miserable and hungry, all while huddling underneath a blanket for warmth.

Johnny did not like being on a ship, he decided. He did not like it at all. He rather wished he was back home in the manor, although he was very glad to be rid of Doom's drafty old castle. It was disgraceful, as far as castles went.

There was a tiny black speck on the horizon. Johnny was extremely bored, because no one would let him help with anything anymore, so he had nothing to do except sit and stare off into the distance.

He could not even make himself look beautiful. He was soaked through to the bone. No one looked very handsome when they were as soaked and freezing as Johnny was. That was some small consolation, he supposed.

The speck was growing larger. Johnny thought it looked rather like a ship.

A few moments later, he decided it was a ship after all, and that he should perhaps tell his companions.

Sue might be cross with him if he failed to, and he knew better than to make her cross. She tended to shout at him when she was cross with him, and her face would become very red, which was very unbecoming and, worse than that, embarrassing for Johnny. 

Johnny was very beautiful, and it would not do to let others know that he had a sister who looked so homely when she was cross.

"Reed?" Johnny ventured. "You said it wasn't possible for anyone to be following us, did you not?"

"Entirely inconceivable," Reed reassured him. "You're quite safe, lad." He frowned over at Johnny. "Why do you ask?"

Johnny raised a trembling hand and pointed at a speck on the horizon. "Because there's a ship following us."

"Inconceivable!" Reed cried out as he leapt to peer at the ship, rapidly followed by Ben and Sue. "It cannot be following us."

"No," Sue said dryly. "I am sure it is simply a fisherman, off to fish in eel-infested waters."

Reed shot her a wounded look. "There's no need to be sarcastic, Sue."

"Who is he, and how can he be following us?" Sue demanded, squinting at the ominous black sail. "No one knew of our plans. How is he following us?"

"Maybe he's not," Ben said. "Mebbe he's just sort of going in the same direction as us."

Everyone turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. Ben tossed up his great big hands defensively. "I said maybe!"

"Perhaps he is one of Doom's agents," Reed said. "That would be most unfortunate. He cannot possibly catch up to us. I designed this ship myself."

"We _have_ to go faster," Sue said decisively, leaping into action. "We _must_ escape him."

Ben yanked Reed away from the side and shoved him back at the tiller. "Stop gawkin' and steer, genius."

"Yes," Reed said distractedly. "Yes. You're quite right, of course."

"Ain't I always?" 

* * *

"He's gaining on us!" Johnny shouted urgently. "Go faster!"

"I thought you said this ship wuz the fastest," Ben said to Reed.

"Inconceivable," Reed said, leaning forwards from where he had a solid grip on the tiller. "It's inconceivable. No ship could overtake ours. It's simply not possible."

"Apparently it is possible, because it's happening," Sue said. "Can't we make ours go any faster?"

"We'll be at the Cliffs of Insanity within the hour," Reed assured her. "We shall certainly lose him there."

"Cliffs of...what?" Johnny asked trepidatiously. That did not sound very pleasant either.

He sighed internally. His life had simply become one misery after another. At times he wondered why he bothered.

"Don't worry about it, brother," Sue said, patting his shoulder. "Everything's going according to plan."

Johnny very much doubted strangely ominous black ships were part of any plan.

He cast a wary look at it from over the edge of Reed's ship.

* * *

Johnny stared up at the Cliffs of Insanity, and saw nothing but a sheer black wall, climbing so high into the sky Johnny could hardly even see the top.

A single thick rope dangled from the distant heights.

"Sue," he said, "how are we going to climb up there? I fear I cannot. It would make my arms all shaky and my hands all cut and bleeding and that is not very attractive, so it is simply out of the question."

"Relax, kid," Ben said, clapping him on the back and nearly sending him sprawling on the deck. "I'll get us ta the top. Trust me."

Ben's arms were very thick, Johnny supposed, and it was entirely possible he could carry them all up to the top of the cliff.

"This will stop our pursuer," Reed said. "He simply can't scale the Cliffs alone. It's inconceivable."

"Or she," Sue interjected. "We don't know. She could be a woman. Too far to tell."

"Jealous of my beauty, no doubt," Johnny sighed. "Being beautiful is such a burden. Men and women alike are so envious of me. It is so very taxing sometimes."

Everyone turned to stare at him. He did not at all like the way Sue was staring, so he scrambled to get Ben between him and Sue.

She never seemed very pleased with him when he mentioned his beauty. He expected that Sue was simply jealous of him. He understood that completely. He was much more beautiful than she was, and they had both always known it.

He had to admit, he was not looking his best at the moment. It was all because of Reed and his dratted little ship. His outfit was probably permanently ruined, and that was a pity because he very much liked it.

Yet one more reason to loathe the sea. It had taken his Peter from him, and it had ruined his favorite outfit.

* * *

"Don't you ever bathe?" Johnny asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He was tied to Ben's back, Sue to his right side, Reed to his left.

"Whenever I feel like it, kid," Ben said.

"So never?"

Sue harrumphed. "I seem to remember a boy who hardly bathed until he found his true love."

"That was before I became a prince," Johnny said, undeterred. "I have standards now."

"Is this going to be over soon?" Reed asked. He looked green. "I don't particularly enjoy heights."

"Please don't throw up on me," Johnny said, edging away from him as much as he could. "These clothes are ruined quite enough, thank you."

"Yeah," Ben chortled at Reed. "I remember how green ya looked when we was climbin' Everest. Whatta time ta figure out yer afraid o' heights."

"You climbed Everest?" Sue said, peering over Ben's shoulder at Reed. "I didn't know that! Why have you never mentioned it?"

Reed shrugged. "It was rather a disaster, and all a bit embarrassing. If it hadn't been for Ben, I certainly would have frozen to death or plummeted to my death."

"Y' got that straight, genius," Ben said merrily. "I had ta carry him for awhile there."

Johnny snickered. "How embarrassing it must be to be carried!"

"Ben's carrying _you_ ," Sue said crossly. "Right now."

"Yes," Johnny conceded. "But only because these cliffs are impossible to climb if you are not a great big mountain of a man."

"Yeah, I know I am," Ben said proudly. "Ain't I amazin'?"

Johnny rolled his eyes. "You can hardly take credit for what is merely an accident of birth."

"You seem ta take plenty o' credit for yer looks there, kid," Ben shot back.

Johnny made an outraged noise. "Do you have any idea how much work goes into looking this beautiful? I assure you, it is not easy! I have enhanced greatly on my natural looks. Sue is my sister, after all, but she is nowhere close to being one of the most beautiful women on the planet. Not even on the list. And my natural, _flawless_ sense of fashion? You could not buy one if you tried!"

"You and your lists," Sue scoffed. "Half the time I think you make those up. At least when it comes to swordfighting, there is a clear way to tell who is better. But with beauty, how can you tell?"

"Well, it's a combination of a great many factors, you see—" Johnny began, before he was rudely cut off by everyone else shouting, "We don't care!"

"Not even a little, junior," Ben added.

"Well, I never," Johnny huffed. "She's the one who asked!"

"It was rhetorical," Sue said. "Clearly, it was rhetorical."

"Rhetori—what?" Johnny said. "Half the time I think you invent words to confuse me."

"I have absolutely never done that. If you read something besides romances, little brother, you might learn some of them yourself," Sue said snidely.

"But other books are so dull," Johnny replied, mouth twisting. "Not enough kissing, you see."

"Of course there isn't," Sue said with a roll of her eyes. "Of course."

* * *

"This is incredibly boring," Johnny complained. "Can't you go any faster, Ben?"

"No," he said. "Not with you weighin' me down, I can't. You want me to drop ya, kid, just let me know."

Johnny chose to ignore that, and instead peered down. "Oh," he said. "The person following us is definitely a man. He seems very well-built and muscular, I must say. _Very_ dashing. And he's climbing the rope. Rather vigorously. His arms must be very strong, because he's gaining on us."

Peter's arms had been very strong too. Sadly, they had only held Johnny once, but it had been a very memorable once.

Reed and Sue both glanced down at the man in black.

"Oh, that was a mistake," Reed groaned, clapping a hand to his mouth.

"I'm very serious," Johnny told him. "Please don't vomit on me."

"He's dressed all in black," Sue said, squinting down at the man who was slowly and steadily climbing after them. "Reminds me of you during your mourning years."

"Yes," Johnny sighed. "Those were very painful years. I lost my true love to pirates, and the cruel, cruel sea."

"We know," the other three said in a chorus.

"You already mentioned that, runt," Ben said.

"I am not a runt," Johnny said resentfully. "I'm the perfect height, you uncultured boor."

"Is it really smart to be insultin' the guy yer life currently depends on, is the question you wanna be asking yerself right now, squirt," Ben said.

"Oh," Johnny said faintly. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Of course you hadn't," Sue said wryly. "Don't worry. Benjy won't really drop you. He's actually a very kind man, for all his posturing."

"Oh, don't tell 'im that, Suzy! I wuz gonna take advantage of him bein' scared of me."

"I am _not_ scared of you," Johnny said firmly. "I have faced down Doom himself, and he is a very evil tyrant. You are not very frightening next to him. Besides, you're trying to rescue me. It would be very counterproductive if you killed me, and Sue would be very cross with you. Sue's not pleasant at all when she's cross."

"That's very true," Sue conceded. "I worked very hard to be unpleasant when I'm cross."

"Well, you succeeded," Johnny told her. "Of course, you're only slightly more pleasant when you're not cross."

He risked ducking towards Reed to avoid Sue's smack.

* * *

"Climb _faster_ ," Sue said urgently to Ben. "He's gaining even more ground!"

"You try carryin' three people up a rope, see how fast _you_ go," Ben grumbled, but he picked up his pace a smidge nevertheless. "Especially tub o' lard back there."

"I am not fat!" Johnny shouted. "Songs have been written about by perfect, perfect figure! Poems! The greatest sculptor in all of Europe said I had the most perfect body he'd ever been privileged to gaze upon! He begged me for weeks to pose for him—I'd be the new Adam, he said—but the king refused to give permission. He said it was improper for the prince to appear mostly naked before commoners."

Reed snorted and muttered something under his breath, but Johnny could not make out what it was.

"Yeah," Ben told Johnny. "He was right. The sculptor was tryin' ta get in your pants, kid. Hate ta break it to ya."

"He was not! It was nothing so—so _crass_! It was aesthetic appreciation, you cretin. Too pure and—and _lofty_ for you to understand."

Ben snorted. "Right, kid. Sure. You jus' keep livin' off in la-la land, while the rest o' us live in what we like to call the real world."

"A man abducted me and tried to force me to marry him!" Johnny shouted. "And no one said a word against him because he was the king! It was hell! I am _not_ naive, and neither am I a fool. You would not _believe_ the horrors I saw while I lived in the palace! Did you know that Doom wears that dratted green cape of his every day? It was horrid, and ever so embarrassing to be engaged to him!"

"Oh, brother," Ben grumbled. 

* * *

"Do you think the man in black will make it to the top of the Cliffs?" Reed asked weakly. "We should plan what to do in case he does."

"Worse comes to worst, I'll deal with him," Sue said. She had taken on as many as twenty men at once, and always emerged victorious. One boy would be no problem at all, no matter how menacing he looked in his black mask. "You two can go on ahead with Johnny. I'll catch up after I've killed him."

"You?" Johnny scoffed. "What will you do? Be sarcastic at him?"

"I'm a master swordswoman," Sue said proudly. She had worked hard for a great many years to be the best, so of course she was proud. It had pained her not to be able to tell her brother, every time he bragged about his beauty, that she was the greatest swordfighter alive.  "Best swordfighter in Europe."

"No, you're not," Johnny scoffed. "You're just a highwayman. Erm. Woman."

"Remember the swordmaker I apprenticed for? He's also the greatest swordfighter in all of Europe," Sue pointed out. " _Was_ the greatest, I should say, until I bested him. Now _I'm_ the best."

"Oh," Johnny said, surprised. "You never told me you were learning to swordfight. I thought he was teaching you how to make swords. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were too busy sighing in windows and in fields over your true love," Sue shrugged.

That had been ever so irritating to watch. The kingdom falling to pieces, a dictator on the throne, while her brother sighed in a window, oblivious to it all.

She, on the other hand, had found herself unable to turn a blind eye to the suffering she had seen in the faces of the peasants in the village. Their pain and misery had cried out to her with their need for vengeance and protection.

How could she, in good conscience, live a comfortable, privileged life on her parents' estate, when she knew how the people of Florin suffered?

That knowledge had eaten away at her throughout her teenage years. It had driven her to learn everything there was to know about leading a resistance movement, about warfare, about dueling. Now, there was none in Florin who was her equal when it came to warfare. 

Malice had been her way of fighting for justice while preserving her good name and her anonymity. No one would have suspected that reclusive and beautiful Susan Storm spent her nights battling the Doomsguard and rescuing villagers from their prisons. She had helped dozens flee the country through her parents' network of spies and resistance fighters.

Granted, it had all become much easier when Ben and Reed had turned up one day, eager to aid her in her fight. Reed's intelligence and his uncanny knack for predicting Doom's behavior, coupled with Ben's legendary strength, had been invaluable in her unceasing battle against tyranny.

And there had been her brother, sitting at home like a ninny with a hand draped over his eyes, frittering his life away by mourning a boy he had been engaged to for all of five minutes.

It had made her _livid_. She loved him dearly, but he also frustrated her half to death. But he was young, and she always hoped he would wake up some day, and take note of the world around him.

But before that could happen, Doom had stolen him away and killed her parents, and her fury had been all-consuming. Every time she had thought of her brother engaged to that—that _monster_ , the bile had risen in her throat until she had not been able to breathe. 

All she could think of was one day avenging herself, her parents, her brother by running the tyrant through with the sword that had belonged to her mother, the woman he had ordered killed.

She had wrestled with it for months, torn between her duty to her brother and her duty to her country. She could overthrow Doom. She _knew_ she could. But what to do about her helpless, naive younger brother? He needed protecting also, and there was no one else she could trust to care for him. 

But that day when he had told her what Doom planned for him after their wedding—that had been when she had made her choice. She had chosen her brother, and when she had looked into his sweet young face, into his eyes as they shone at her with gratitude, she knew that she could never have chosen differently. She hoped she would never come to regret it.

"Oh," Johnny said. "Pity. I think I would have liked to learn how to swordfight. I think I'd be very good at it. Is it very tiring?"

"Yes," she said. "Very."

"Oh," Johnny said. "Never mind then. I'd rather spend my time looking beautiful. There's much less sweat involved."

Sue thumped her forehead against Ben's arm and scrunched her eyes shut. Her brother was infuriating. She had forgotten how infuriating he could be. They had hardly seen each other last year, and so she had forgotten it.

Perhaps she had made the wrong choice after all.

* * *

"We should cut the rope," Sue announced when they reached the top safely. She stood near the edge, frowning down at the man in black. "He shall fall to his death, and this pitiful chase will be over."

"Wait!" Johnny said, peering down at the stranger. "He seems like he's very good-looking beneath that mask. It's rather a shame to kill him, don't you think? There are so few truly beautiful people in the world. Are you positive we have to?"

Sue rolled her eyes. "I'm cutting the rope."

Johnny sighed. "If you must. What a pity."

Sue whacked at the rope with her sword, and Johnny sighed again.

"I thought you had a true love, kid," Ben said.

"That doesn't mean I can't appreciate the beauty of other men," Johnny said. "It simply means I'm not interested in doing anything about it. No one can compare to the beauty of my true love anyhow."

"He really wasn't that good-looking," Sue grumbled, sheathing her sword again. "His eyebrows looked like two caterpillars were crawling over his face. Every time he frowned, I had to fight down the urge to swat them off his face."

Johnny gasped, scandalized. " _Sacrilege_ ," he said indignantly. "You are profaning the memory of my love."

"You only really talked to him _once_!" Sue shouted. "Stop exaggerating! Mother should never have allowed you to read so many fairy tales when you were a child and trashy—I am sorry, but there is no other word for them—romances when you grew older. They addled your brains, I fear. I blame Mother."

"You only talked to him _once_?" Reed asked Johnny, shocked. "And you've been pining over him for _years_?"

"And I will mourn him the rest of my life, however long that will be," Johnny said firmly. "I swore it."

"Yeah, kid," Ben said, shaking his head at him incredulously. "You do that."

"Gentlemen," Sue said, peering over the ledge. "Brother. I hate to interrupt, but we have more pressing matters to attend to."

"Such as?" Reed said. 

"The man in black yet lives."

"Inconceivable!" Reed exclaimed.

"You keep saying that," Johnny said, wrinkling his nose. "I am not entirely certain what it means in the first place, but I don't think it means what you think it means."

Reed shot him an annoyed look. "I know precisely what it means, and I assure you I am using it correctly."

"He's climbing up the cliff with his bare hands!" Sue said urgently. " _Without_ the rope!"

They all gaped at her and then rushed to look. Sure enough, there was the man in black, crawling determinedly up the cliff.

Johnny was very impressed.

"I think he's very determined to kill you, Johnny," Sue said.

"Perhaps he just wants me for himself," Johnny suggested. "So he can seduce me. I _am_ very beautiful, you know."

Sue squinted at him. "Please tell me you don't find that prospect exciting. You would find it far less exciting if it was actually happening, I assure you."

"No!" Johnny protested. "Of course not. I am sworn to my true love." He peered down at the stranger. "He does seem very handsome, though."

He did his best to ignore the way they all rolled their eyes at that.

"You boys had better go," Sue said. "I'll catch up once he's dead. Shouldn't take me long at all."

"Do you _have_ to—" Johnny began.

"Yes!" Sue hollered ill-temperedly. "Go! Now."

* * *

Sue spent some time warming up at the top of the hill as she waited for the man in black to complete his ascent.

She grew impatient rather quickly and moved to examine his progress. He was fifty feet down, and it would take him a good twenty minutes to reach the top. "Hello there!" she shouted, deepening her voice the way she did when she was disguised as Malice. "Could you perhaps go faster? I'm in rather a hurry. Fleeing from a tyrant, and all that. Speed is of the essence, you know."

"I shall go faster," the man in black replied testily, "if you do not distract me."

Sue fell silent. "That is still not very fast," she said after a few minutes. "I really am in a hurry."

"Well," the man in black said, "you could help me, you know."

"I am waiting up here to kill you," Sue pointed out. "Would you truly trust me with your life?"

"Ah," the man in black grunted. "Excellent point. I suppose you shall just have to wait."

"I am very trustworthy," Sue said. "If I gave you my word you could trust me."

"From what I have heard of you, Malice, you are a robber and a murderer," the man in black replied. "I do not think you are particularly trustworthy."

"Fair point," Sue said. That was her reputation, after all, and one she had worked rather hard to create. "But I am very selective about who I rob and murder, if that helps."

"It does not, shockingly," the man in black replied dryly. "You will just have to be patient, I fear."

"There is nothing I could say to get you to trust me?" Sue said, disappointed. She would hate it if she had to wait any longer. Catching up to Johnny and the rest of them would be a pain if this took much longer.

"No," the man in black said. "Nothing comes to mind. It will be another half hour or so, I fear."

Sue groaned. "There must be some way."

"None."

"I swear on the grave of my beloved mother, Mary Storm, that you will reach the top alive."

The man in black ceased climbing upwards as he stared up at her searchingly. "Very well, sir, you may toss down the rope."

Delighted, Sue did so. The man in black reached the top and sagged against the nearest boulder, out of breath. 

"Well," Sue said. "I suppose we should fence now."

"Give me a moment to catch my breath," the man in black panted. "That was quite a climb."

"Why are you following us?" Sue asked him, leaning on a rock across from him. 

"The prince will fetch a high price. Many desire him."

Sue made a valiant effort to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, I suppose he is very beautiful."

"And beauty is quite the commodity."

"You are an opportunist, then."

"Precisely."

Sue felt disgusted. "So you would sell him to the highest bidder. An innocent boy."

"And what, pray tell, do you intend to do with him that is so noble?" the man in black said cuttingly.

Sue did not reply. She did not want any witnesses to catch wind of what it was they were planning. The less people knew of her plans, the better.

"That is what I thought," he said. 

"You seem to have caught your breath," Sue said, getting to her feet and raising her sword. "I would like to kill you now."

The man in black rose and drew his own. "We shall see who kills who."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, it was all over, and Sue had, impossibly, lost.

Beaten. She was beaten, her sweet younger brother left vulnerable and undefended by the one who loved him most.

If any harm came to him, she would never forgive herself.

Sue was kneeling in the dirt, the point of the man in black's blade pressed to her neck. She scowled up at him with all the fire she could muster. "If you harm a single hair on his head," she spat out, "I shall see that it is returned to you tenfold."

"I promise nothing," the man in black said.

Sue felt a sharp pain on the back of her head. She had time enough to think, "Oh, god, I've failed him," before blackness overwhelmed her.

* * *

Johnny, Reed, and Ben were climbing up a hill—climbing was very sweaty work, Johnny thought, and he most certainly did not enjoy it—when Ben pointed at something off in the distance.

"Look!" he said. "The man in black's followin' us, an' Suzy ain't nowhere t' be seen!"

"No!" Johnny said, horrified, pressing a hand to his chest. "No! Did he kill her, the blackguard?"

"I find that difficult to believe," Reed said. "Your sister is very, very difficult to kill. Many have tried, and all have failed. I do not think this young man could have managed what entire squads of the Doomsguard have failed to accomplish."

"People have tried to kill her?" Johnny asked, astonished. "She's never mentioned it."

"She doesn't like to brag."

"I don't understand that," Johnny said, shaking his head. "If I was that good with a sword, I would make sure everyone knew it."

"Yes," Reed said dryly. "I'm very sure that you would." He turned to Ben. "Do you think you can handle him?"

"Pretty sure I can take a pipsqueak like him," Ben scoffed. "Won't even break a sweat."

"Find out if he killed Sue first," Johnny said. "If he did, make sure you don't kill him, because in that case I would very much like to kill him myself."

"You?" Ben scoffed. "Wouldn't it ruin yer clothes?"

"If he has taken my sister from me," Johnny said dejectedly, "I don't think I will care very much about clothes anymore. I shall find the nearest dagger, and plunge it straight into my heart."

"Don't do that, son," Reed said. "Sue wouldn't want you to. In any case, I am certain she yet lives."

"My family and my true love will all be dead," Johnny said sadly. "Even if I spent all my days weeping for their loss, I could never weep enough tears for any one of them. It will not matter what Sue wanted for me. It will only matter that I am still alive, and still very beautiful, and I will no longer have Sue to console or save me."

"Yes," Reed said. "I am very sorry for all you have lost, lad. I wish there was something I could do to give your family and your true love back to you."

Johnny shook his head. "There is nothing anyone can do," he said. "I fear that I must wait until Death claims me to see their faces once more."

Reed was very quiet after that. 

* * *

Ben sat on a boulder and waited patiently for the man in black to cross paths with him. When he was near enough, Ben picked up a smaller boulder with one hand and lobbed it at him. 

The man in black dodged it agilely and glanced about, wild-eyed, until he spotted Ben. 

"Hello," Ben said, hefting another boulder in his hand menacingly. "I missed ya on purpose, kid."

"I rather suspected," the stranger replied.

"You 'nd I've gotta fight, but let's do it sportsmanlike. You put down your sword, I promise not ta throw anymore boulders at ya."

The man in black looked down at his sword, considering. He tossed it to the ground. "I accept. Though I suspect you still have the upper hand in this."

Ben chuckled, and let the boulder drop uselessly to the ground. "Well, as my Aunt Petunia always says, y' can't help how God made ya."

"No, I suppose you can't," the man in black said. "I suppose this is rather as fair as we're likely to get."

Ben hopped down off of his boulder and began to stroll cautiously towards the man in black. "So," he said, "whaddya want with the prince?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that," the man in black said. "I would have thought it was very obvious. The same thing you want. To sell him to the highest bidder."

"I wouldn't be too sure a that, kid."

"Is that...not what you want?"

"Now that would be tellin'. Doesn't that mask itch?"

The man in black shrugged. "It's terribly comfortable, actually. I suspect they may become quite popular in the future."

"Masks? I doubt that, kid. Hate ta tell ya this, but they look kinda stupid. Sure ya ain't wearin' it cause ya burned yer face or somethin'? I knew a guy who did that once."

"No, my face is quite fine, I assure you."

"Won't be when I'm through with it," Ben said breezily, as he raised his giant hand to throw the first punch.

Ben was stronger, it was true, but the man in black was quicker and more agile. He dodged Ben's blows, and squirmed out of his arms when Ben tried his best to squeeze him to death. 

The next thing Ben knew, the man in black's arms were twisted round Ben's neck, crushing Ben's windpipe with a strength beyond that Ben thought possible, and the edges of Ben's vision were beginning to go black.

"Aw, hell," Ben managed to wheeze out with his last bit of air. "Don't hurt the kid. He's just a kid."

The man in black murmured something in response, but Ben was far too unconscious to hear it. 

* * *

Johnny stumbled after Reed as quickly as he could, but the terrain was quite rocky, and it was very difficult and exhausting.

Johnny was so terrified that Sue might be dead that he hardly even noticed, and complained less than he ever had in his life.

His heart sank when he cast a wary glance behind them and saw the unmistakable figure of the man in black off in the distance, still following them, despite having fought the strongest man in Europe. 

"Dammit!" Reed said when Johnny pointed it out. "He's very determined to get at you. And damnably capable if he defeated Sue and Ben!"

"Yes," Johnny sighed. "It's because I'm so beautiful. It's a curse, really."

"He may very well be trying to kill you, you know," Reed felt compelled to point out. "Because you are Doom's betrothed. It may have nothing whatsoever to do with you personally."

"I suppose," Johnny allowed. "But it would be a shame if he killed me, wouldn't it? I'm far too beautiful to kill. Perhaps if I smile at him, he'll swoon at my feet. Everyone does that."

"I don't think I would swoon."

"Well, you're very old."

"I am not old. I'm not very much older than your sister."

"Oh, but Sue's quite old. Ancient, really. Everyone past twenty-five is ancient." Johnny frowned at him. "Why is there grey in your hair if you're only thirty or so? That only happens when you are very, very old, does it not?"

"I have been through a great deal of pain and sorrow in my life. It can sometimes happen."

"Oh," Johnny said. "My future husband was nearly thirty as well, you know." He scrunched up his nose. "He had _wrinkles_ round his eyes, Reed. It was horrible."

"I know how old he is," Reed muttered underneath his breath. "I've known the king since the day he was born."

"Truly?" Johnny said, intrigued. "Are you an aristocrat or are you a servant? I do not know how else you could have seen him then. You are much too young to have been his physician."

"Later," Reed said evasively. "We don't have time for that now. We have to figure out how to save you."

"I know!" Johnny said, feeling very proud of himself for having come up with an idea to help. "I'll smile at him, and then I'll just ask him to go away very nicely."

Reed shot him a look. "Somehow I still don't think that'll work, Johnny."

"It's worked before."

"When has it ever worked before?"

"People do things for me all the time."

"You're a prince. Of course they do. I don't think this mysterious stranger is going to care that you're a prince. Er. Were a prince."

"I suppose I'm not anymore. What a pity. At least I'm still beautiful."

"Yes," Reed said wryly. "Thank heaven for small favors."

* * *

"Do you think the king sent him?" Johnny asked later. The stranger was most definitely gaining on them.

"No," Reed said. "One man alone? I have been thinking, and this is not Doom's style. Doom would have sent an army after you."

"That's very true," Johnny said. "He's not very subtle."

"The man in black must think we're kidnapping you," Reed theorized. "He must think we're going to sell you to Guilder, or perhaps that we're going to assassinate you."

"Oh," Johnny said. "So you think he's trying to save me?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Reed cautioned. "He could be planning on ransoming you off to the highest bidder. Back to Doom or perhaps to Guilder, so they can barter you back to Doom."

"I don't think I'd like either of those very much," Johnny said.

"No," Reed replied. "I didn't think you would."

"So what do we do?"

"He wants you alive, for whatever reason," Reed said. "We use that to our advantage."

"I don't think I like the sound of that."

Reed put a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "Don't worry, son," he said kindly. "I will not allow him near you."

"Thank you," Johnny said, already feeling much better. "I would appreciate that very much." 

* * *

Reed decided that if Sue had been unable to defeat the man in black with skill, Ben with strength, there was only brains left.

They sat in a clearing, at a low-lying rock that was shaped rather like a table, while Reed frowned pensively at it and planned how to save Johnny, alone. 

It was very irritating, having to keep quiet while Reed planned, and sitting on rocks was not particularly comfortable, especially for one who was used to nothing but the softest cushions to recline upon.

Johnny sighed loudly and eyed Reed. 

He did not seem to have heard, so Johnny sighed again.

"Lad," Reed said, "please stop that. It makes it very difficult to concentrate."

"Can I help? It's quite boring, watching someone plan how to save you."

"I...appreciate the offer, but I believe I shall do quite well on my own." 

"Oh," Johnny said, crestfallen. "It's because I'm not very bright, isn't it? Sue always tells me I'm not. I thought she was exaggerating, but lately I have begun to think she might be right to think so. There's so much I don't understand. I'm very stupid, aren't I?"

"No," Reed said. "Not at all."

It had not escaped Johnny's attention that Reed's voice had gone up several octaves when he said that.

"Oh," Johnny said dejectedly, allowing his shoulders to sag. "So it is that."

"Everyone has their strengths," Reed said consolingly, patting Johnny's shoulder. "Stick to yours."

"I was!" Johnny protested. "I was sighing. You told me to stop."

"Uh. Let's have a snack," Reed suggested. "Eating is entertaining, is it not?"

"Yes," Johnny sighed, clutching at his stomach. "That's a very smart idea, Reed. Fleeing from one's tyrannical fiancé and a mysterious stranger in black who may or may not want to kill you is very hungry work, it turns out. I did not want to mention it."

"Why on earth not?"

"It didn't seem as though there was time to eat. We were too busy fleeing."

"Ah. I suppose we were."

* * *

"Reed," Johnny said, embarrassingly munching on a piece of day-old bread as though it was the most delicious meal he had ever had, "why are you helping Sue and the resistance?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Reed asked, nonplussed.

"You are from Sicily," Johnny pointed out. "Florin is not your country. Why bother going out of your way to help us? Why help me? It is not a matter that concerns you. Or does it?"

"I help because...because it's the right thing to do. I despise injustice, no matter where it is."

"Still," Johnny said, "you must admit, it's rather unusual to help free a country that is not yours from an evil tyrant, and put your life at risk for it. Why would you?"

Reed's mouth worked, but ultimately he seemed unable to find any response.

"You know," Johnny said casually, "it occurred to me that I met a man from Sicily at the palace three months ago. Appallingly thick accent. I hardly understood a word he said. I nearly sent for an interpreter. You have no trace of an accent." He set his bread down. "You are from Florin, aren't you?"

Reed laughed, long and low. "You know, you may be cleverer than you seem. Two years I have been back, and not a single person has caught on to that."

"Not even Sue?"

"No. Not even Sue."

"Why do you lie about it?"

"I have my reasons. They're...private. Ben is the only one who knows of them, and even he does not know everything." He paused. "Besides, it is not—not much of a lie. I have spent nearly two decades away from Florin. Most of my life. When I returned, I hardly recognized it, it had changed so very much during my absence, and not at all for the better. And what was I doing while my country, my people were suffering? Traveling the world, having adventures and a right old whale of a time. No, lad. I do not call myself a citizen of Florin because I do not deserve to. I fight with the resistance because I hope to one day be worthy of it once more, and make it the country I know it can be again." 

"But...you _are_ going with me to America, are you not? I don't want to go alone."

"I...don't know. I had planned on sending you and your sister on your way, and returning to Florin only once I was certain you had safely escaped. I owed you and your sister that much. But I have a duty to Florin. It took me a very long time to learn that, but now that I have, I shall never run from my duties again. Not even to have fantastic adventures in the most far-off climes."

"Why do you owe me anything?"

"That is a long story, lad, and one we don't have time for at the moment."

"Well, I hope you tell me someday, because I am very curious."

"If I succeed in my quest, I am sure you will know."

"That is very cryptic. I do so admire people who can be cryptic." Johnny sighed. "I can never manage it."

Reed chortled. "No, I can see how it would be difficult for you, son. You are very...open and direct about your opinions. It is a fine quality. Let no one tell you differently."

* * *

Johnny carefully examined the field they were in as he finished his meal. It was very pretty, and seemed as good a place as any. "Do you think I have time to mourn for my dear Peter for a few minutes before the man in black arrives? I have not mourned for him today at all, and I make it a point to mourn for him every day. I shall mourn for Sue for a few moments as well, I think, in case she has indeed perished beneath the blackguard's blade."

"Erm," Reed said, looking up, startled from his meal. "I...suppose there's time? I do not imagine he could catch up to us for another twenty minutes."

"Excellent," Johnny said. He lay down and began to arrange himself on the flat rock he had been sitting on as well as he could, although it was very uncomfortable. Still, it was not as though Johnny had any other options. There were not even any decent trees nearby that he could pine under, save for a gnarled, twisted old thing he refused to sit beneath. "Do you think I look more sorrowful like this?" He pressed the back of his hand to his eyes. "Or like this?" He let his hand fall so that his handkerchief hung from it very picturesquely, he thought.

Reed squinted at him. "Uh. Both seem very...very mournful, Johnny."

Pleased, Johnny shut his eyes and let out a forlorn sigh. 

"Are you...quite all right, son? Are you certain you don't suffer from an affliction of the lungs?"

"No, of course I don't," he scoffed. "I am sighing for my lost love, obviously. Which is different than how I shall sigh for Sue. You'll see. There are quite a lot of different kinds of sighs."

"Oh," Reed said. "Erm. Of course. My apologies."

"I am very good at sighing," Johnny said proudly. "I practice very often. I had journals filled with notes on how to improve my sighing back in Florin. Perhaps I shall send them to a publisher some day, if I can ever get them back. I expect many would be interested in improving their pining skills. It is quite the art form, and takes a great deal of skill. Pining is all the fashion nowadays, you know."

"Oh, of course," Reed said, although Johnny suspected he may have been humoring Johnny, but Johnny did not care in the slightest. "I am certain it does, lad."

Johnny draped a hand over his eyes delicately and sighed again. 

* * *

When the man in black finally caught up with them, Reed was quite ready for him.

Reed's plan involved holding a dagger to Johnny's throat and tying Johnny's hands together. Johnny was not very fond of that part, and it had taken Reed quite some time to convince him.

It was very uncomfortable, and a little frightening, and Johnny was not very happy about any of it. But he was being brave, because it was what Sue would do.

The man in black strode purposefully into the clearing. He really was very handsome, Johnny thought. A trim waist, a muscular build, broad shoulders—it was a pity Johnny could not see his face. 

"You defeated my friends," Reed said from the small stone table he and Johnny were sitting at.

Reed was very calm, despite potentially being in grave danger. Johnny admired that, since he was not calm at all.

"It would appear that I have," the man in black replied coolly.

His voice was very nice also, Johnny thought. Silky, smooth, deep, very self-assured. Not loud and booming like the king's. 

"That is impressive," Reed said. "They are both exceedingly capable."

"That they are," the man in black replied, taking another step towards them.

"Stop right there, or I slit his throat," Reed warned. "I assume you want him alive."

"It's because I'm pretty, isn't it?" Johnny could not help but say. "It's always because I'm pretty."

"Shut up, Johnny!" they both roared at him.

"That's _Prince_ Johnny to you, stranger," Johnny said loftily. "I am royalty, after all."

"Ignore him," Reed told the stranger. "I try to."

"Hand him over and it won't be necessary to listen to him at all."

"No," Reed said. "I have obligations. You understand, of course."

"Yes," the man in black said. "I suppose I do. We are at an impasse, then. So what now?"

"I doubt whether I can best you physically," Reed said. "Given that both of my friends were better warriors than I. A battle of wits, then? You cannot hope to best me. I am the cleverest man in Europe."

"And I the handsomest in the world," Johnny felt the need to point out. "But you probably already know that."

"Shush," Reed said.

"Are you truly the cleverest?" the man in black said. Worryingly, he sounded amused. "We shall see about that."

"I have yet to meet anyone cleverer."

"The chalices," the man in black said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small paper packet. "This is a potion that will put whoever drinks it to sleep. Instantly." He picked up the two chalices. "I will put it in one of these. You choose which we each will drink from."

"A game of logic," Reed said. "Very well. I agree."

"The victor will take the prince, of course," the man in black said. "While the loser slumbers."

"I would rather go my own way, thank you," Johnny said.

"Hush," Reed commanded. 

The man in black turned his back then to place the potion in the chalice. Johnny took the opportunity to admire his back. It was, as far as backs go, one of the best Johnny had ever seen.

When the man in black turned back around, he placed both chalices on the coarse stone. "Choose," he said to Reed.

* * *

Five minutes later, Reed collapsed, knocked out by whatever the man in black had slipped into his drink. Johnny’s eyes widened.

He was at the mercy of the man in black now.

"What are you planning to do to me?" he asked fearfully. "You're not going to seduce me, are you? Because there are many people who would be very cross if you did, and I'm one of them."

"No," the man in black said curtly. He grasped the rope with which Johnny's hands were tied and pulled Johnny to his feet. Suddenly, allowing Reed to tie his hands together seemed like a less stellar idea.

“I’ll pay you a great deal of money if you let me go,” Johnny offered.

“So you are wealthy now?” the man in black queried. He did not sound pleased.

“Extremely,” Johnny lied.

The man in black snorted.

“I’m not jesting!” Johnny protested. “Mountains of money. All yours.”

* * *

"Where are you taking me?" Johnny demanded. "What are you going to do to me?"

He supposed he should probably be terrified of the man in black, but he found, much to his surprise, that his anger had overwhelmed his fear.

He was feeling reckless. Sue was perhaps dead, and so Johnny had nothing left to live for.

"You will find out when I decide it is time, Highness," the man in black snapped as he tugged on Johnny's rope particularly viciously.

The man in black seemed to delight in taunting him. He was very cruel, and it made Johnny furious.

Johnny decided, upon closer inspection, that he was not so beautiful after all. He was a savage brute, and Johnny did not like him in the slightest, even if he did have arms that rivaled even those of Johnny's true love.

The reached the top of hill, from which the sea was plainly visible.

Johnny gasped, horrified and panicked. The sea was covered in ships, all of which were bearing Florin's distinctive flag.

"It seems your love has come to save you from Guilder's assassins," the man in black said coldly. "How very sweet."

"He is _not_ my love!" Johnny snapped.

"Oh, are you then honest about your greed and ambition?" the man in black said, dragging Johnny away. "Very refreshing. Most men in your position would simply lie and profess their endless love."

"I have _never_ loved him, and I have never pretended otherwise!"

"It's because you are incapable of love, no doubt."

"I am more capable of love than you know," Johnny retorted.

The man in black laughed. It was so cold and cynical that it made the blood freeze in Johnny's veins.

"I had a true love once, when I was younger," Johnny said, not quite knowing why he was confessing it to a complete stranger. "It...ended badly."

"He was rich, I'm sure," the man in black scoffed. "You left him for the king, no doubt, and his boundless riches."

"No," Johnny said sadly. "He was poor. Poor and beautiful. He died because he loved me and longed for nothing more than to be worthy of me." 

Johnny sighed. He tended to sigh very often when he remembered his true love, who had been so unjustly and prematurely torn away from him.

“Did you shed even a single tear for him?” the man in black asked mockingly. “Were they merely for show to gain the sympathy of the king?” 

“Don't you dare mock my pain!” Johnny shouted indignantly. “I died that day! I wore black for him! For years! I look utterly resplendent in bright colors, and yet I wore black for _years_ , simply because I loved him. I would be wearing black today, if it was not for the king's intervention. He would not even let me wear an armband. I wept quite often after he forbade it."

"You wore black because it makes you look thinner, no doubt. You had true love,” the man in black said accusingly. “And you threw it all away. For a crown and a fancy palace.”

“I had no choice!” Johnny retorted.

The man in black’s step faltered. “What do you mean?”

“He told me he would kill me if I didn't marry him! 'No one refuses the will of Doom!' That's what he told me. He's insane! Why would I ever marry anyone who insists on referring to himself in third person? I never would if I had the slightest say in it!"

"No," the man in black said, for once sounding less than confident, "but why did he wish to marry you in the first place? Was it not because you seduced him with your wiles?"

"Seduced?" Johnny shouted, outraged. "No! He wanted to wed me because I am very beautiful. Everyone who gazes upon me desires me, man and woman alike! I have never had to _try_ to seduce anyone in my life! I merely smile, and the world throws itself at my feet. Do try and keep up! I was trying to make the best of things, going along with the marriage, resigned to my miserable fate, consoling myself with all of the pretty clothes, until I discovered that he was planning on claiming my maidenhead on our wedding night, that is! I never agreed to that! I agreed to a ceremonial function as his prince, nothing more! I warned him! I warned him, when he ordered me to marry him, that I would never love again!"

“Maiden...head?"

"That is why my sister was helping me to escape! She was not going to allow me to be deflowered by a man who believes that long flowing green capes are the height of fashion! Especially not one who murdered my parents! She is quite determined to kill the king, you know. My sister holds quite a grudge.”

“Your…sister?”

“Yes, she was the swordsman you fought. Uh, woman. I hope you did not kill her, man in black, or I shall be forced to kill you. I shall be very cross. More cross. I am already cross with you, in case you cannot tell."

“That was your sister? Then this kidnapping—“

“Was a _rescue_! Which you _ruined_!”

“Uh-oh.”

“I assure you, I am every bit as eager to escape from the king as you are to take me from him! I assume you are taking me from him?”

"Well...yes."

"So can you untie me now, mysterious man in black? You will need my help to escape Doom's armies."

"Yes," he said. "Um. I suppose."

The man in black graciously untied Johnny’s hands. Sue repeatedly told Johnny that he was very dull-witted, but it seemed that this man in black was even more so.

“So,” the mysterious man said, “I feel terrible about ruining your rescue. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Yes,” Johnny said, “there is. You killed my sister. Now you can die as well.”

Johnny gave the stranger a good hard shove, so that he went toppling over the side of the steep green hill. Johnny had never caused another living being harm before, and he was discovering now that it could be very satisfying, particularly if they were responsible for the death of his last living family member.

As the stranger was rolling down the hill, however, he uttered three words that changed Johnny's life completely. “As! You! Wish!”

Johnny clapped both hands over his heart and gasped as he belatedly realized who the man in black was. That beautiful back! Those perfect shoulders! That delicate mouth! Johnny had kissed that mouth, dreamt endlessly of those shoulders, sighed forlornly every day for the past three years over that back. How was it possible that he had not recognized the man he had pined over for so long? “My one true love!” he shouted. “My sweet Peter! Back from the dead! We will never be parted again!”

He threw himself down the hill after Peter, and rolled down and down and down until he landed next to him.

“You couldn’t have simply _walked_ down?” Peter complained as he rolled over to lean over Johnny, checking him carefully for any wounds. "Why risk damaging your beautiful body, my love, or your perfect face?"

“Careening to the side of my true love was much more romantic than _walking_ ,” Johnny explained, undeterred, picking a blade of grass out of Peter's hair. This was a very romantic moment, and it simply would not do for Peter to have grass in his hair. “Drama always improves romance. Everyone knows that, my love.” He stared up at Peter expectantly. “Well? For god's sake, remove your mask! How can you deny me the sight of the face I have been pining for all these years for a moment longer? I do hope it's as nice as I remember. Sometimes you build things up in your mind, and they are not nearly as nice when you see them again."

Peter reached a hand up and pulled off his mask.

Johnny decided it was, in fact, _better_ than he remembered, what with the addition of a small and very dashing mustache, and that was quickly followed by the realization that it had been far too long since he had kissed Peter.

Johnny reached up, curled a hand around Peter's long, gorgeous neck, and hauled him down for a kiss. Johnny had dreamt for years about Peter's perfect kisses, and he found that they were worth every last sigh that had been spent on their account. 

"Oh, rats," Johnny said miserably when they paused their passionate embrace long enough to catch their breath. "I wanted to look so very beautiful for you when you returned, and now look at me. I am quite hideous. I am sure these clothes are ruined, and my hair is in an appalling state of disarray. I fell into the ocean, you see, and was very nearly eaten by eels, and I did not have a comb with me, which I admit was very shortsighted, and then it was so windy as we climbed up the Cliffs, and—"

Peter pressed a few fingers lightly against Johnny's mouth to quiet him. Johnny supposed he had been babbling a bit, but, then again, it was not every day that his true love returned from his watery grave. Although he supposed now that Peter had never been in a watery grave to begin with. Suddenly Johnny found his hatred of the sea lessening, but only slightly. It had ruined his favorite riding outfit, after all, and that was quite unforgivable.

"My dear sweet Johnny," Peter chided, "don't be absurd. You look more beautiful than I have ever seen you, I assure you. And you can be very certain of that fact, because I have spent the last three years replaying every single memory of you I have, down to the briefest glimpse of a hand, a shoulder, a knee. It is all that has kept me going."

"My knees?"

"Well, yes, among other things."

"I have always wanted someone to compliment my knees. I knew you were destined to be my true love." Johnny bit his lip. "Does that mean that you have not—not stopped loving me? You have been gone for a very long time, my love."

"Never, my love, never shall I stop," Peter protested. "The stars shall grow cold long before my love for you dies."

Johnny was extremely pleased with that reply. Peter excelled at being romantic, and it was a very good quality to have in a true love. It was, in fact, not a small part of why he was Johnny's true love, although his broad shoulders and even teeth did not exactly hurt either. 

Johnny cast about for something suitably romantic to say to Peter, and settled at last on, "You know, I had stopped believing I would ever see you again, my love. Oh, how I wept for you. It would take an ocean to hold all of the tears I have shed for you." He reached out a hand and caressed Peter's cheek lovingly. 

Yes, that was a very romantic thing to say. Peter would not be able to top it, he was certain.

Peter reached up, took Johnny's hand in his, and pressed a tender kiss against his palm. 

Johnny shivered. That had been a rather inspired move on Peter's part. Johnny had no idea palms could be so arousing.

"Why did you doubt our love?" Peter said reproachfully. "It was very stupid of you."

"They told me you were dead," Johnny said. "What was I to think?" 

"Why, that even death cannot stop true love. In this life or the next, we shall always find each other again, my love. Always," Peter said.

"Oh," Johnny said, touched. "Yes. How—how silly of me. I shall never doubt again."

Peter had won, Johnny had to admit. There was no way Johnny could beat that last declaration of love. Most puzzlingly, Johnny could not even bring himself to care that he had lost, because he had also, he found, somehow won. Peter was his true love, after all, and Johnny was the one who had inspired him to say all of these beautifully romantic things, and that was, after all, a very pleasant thought.

Johnny was rapturously happy at the moment, happier than he had been since Peter had so unfortunately ridden away to London.

He could no longer resist the urge to kiss Peter once more, and so he closed the final millimeter between their lips.

They were both rather marvelous at kissing, Johnny thought, sighing and melting back against the grass, Peter's hard, muscular body pressed excitingly against his. Not that he had anything with which to compare Peter's kisses, of course. But they were the kisses of his true love, and that was quite enough to make them exceptional. 

He had no idea how long he kissed Peter, lying there in the wet, uncomfortable grass that was surely leaving grass stains on his already ruined clothing, but he suspected it must have been a long time. Their kisses, which were, unfortunately, only nearly perfect because of Peter's dratted mustache, were interrupted by what was unmistakably Sue bellowing at them from somewhere not too far away. “Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm!" she shouted disapprovingly. "Are you _kissing_ your _kidnapper_?! Stop that _immediately_! Get your tongue out of his mouth, and I mean _now_!”

Sue was alive, and so was his true love! This was more than he had ever dreamed of having. Johnny felt giddy from joy.

“Yes! I _am_ kissing him!” Johnny hollered back joyously. He discovered that Sue was glaring at him disapprovingly from the top of the hill, hands on her hips, flanked by Reed and Ben. They all seemed relatively unscathed, save for the bump on Sue's head and some bruises round Ben's neck. Also, Sue's false whiskers were finally gone, and Johnny said a silent prayer of thanks for that. They were _very_ unflattering, but he had not wanted to mention it. “Sue, look! It’s my one true love! He’s alive!”

He tilted Peter’s face so Sue could see that he was indeed Johnny's true love. Peter proceeded to wave at them awkwardly.

“My apologies for having trounced you in battle!" Peter shouted at them cheerfully, cupping his hand around his mouth. “It was a misunderstanding! I thought you meant my true love harm!” 

Sue clapped a hand to her face. “Oh, _no_ ,” she groaned. “Not _this_ again. We were _past_ this. Johnny’s going to be _insufferable_. Erm. More insufferable.”

* * *

On a not-too-distant shore, an iron-clad boot thudded onto the sand, a long green cape billowing out in the sea breeze behind it. 

King Doom glowered in the direction of the Cliffs of Insanity. "Find them," he growled at Count Norman. "Return my prince to me. Or I shall be most unhappy with you all."

Count Norman swallowed nervously. "Yes, your Highness," he said. "We shall find them posthaste. The marriage will occur as scheduled."

"If it does not," Doom said, "I shall have the head of every man here put on a pike to adorn my castle walls to remind the people of Florin what happens to those who fail me."

"Is that....practical?" Count Norman asked tentatively. "This is your entire Doomsguard, my liege."

"If they cannot fulfill my bidding, they are of no use to me," Doom said ominously. "Rest assured, they shall all die. Tell them that I want him brought to me undamaged. His beauty is all the little dolt is good for. If he has so much as a bruise, the men who bring him to me shall pay for it dearly."

"Heads on a spike?" Count Norman checked.

"Perhaps," Doom said. "If they are very lucky they shall be dead when it happens."

"How...could you get their heads on a spike if they were yet living?" 

"Magic, of course," Doom scoffed. "Norman, do not question Doom."

"Of course not, my liege," Count Norman said, bowing deferentially before strolling off to deliver Doom's commands to the hundreds of men landing on the shore around them.

Doom's eyes were hard as flint as he gazed unerringly in the direction Johnny and his ragtag band were fleeing. "You shall not escape me, my prince. One way or another, you shall be mine." He slammed his foot down onto an old, blackened log that had washed up on shore, puffed out his chest, and posed in a suitably kingly fashion. "No one escapes the will of Doom."

There was a loud noise as the log—which, it turned out, was most unfortunately hollow—cracked open, and Doom's foot was trapped inside it.

He shook his foot to attempt to free himself, but to no avail. "Curses!" he said. "Norman! Doom is in need of aid!"

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to chat with me on [tumblr](http://timelordsandladies.tumblr.com/)!


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